


Breaking, Healing, Searching, Finding

by Natteravn



Series: All Good Things Come In Threes [1]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Break Up, Coming Out, Family, Fatherhood, Friendship, Heartbreak, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 56
Words: 46,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natteravn/pseuds/Natteravn
Summary: Some unexpected news lead to Kevin and Manuel’s second break-up, and they’re both convinced that they’ll never be in touch again. But things start falling apart around Kevin a year later, and Manuel realises that it can’t hurt being a friend.





	1. News

**Author's Note:**

> Since mid 2016, I’ve been working on what I’ve referred to as my blog project, which is based on Kevin becoming a father, and I’ve finally decided to it post here. Originally, it wasn’t supposed to be very big, but it grew out of proportions long ago.
> 
> The storytelling is partly inspired by the Norwegian webseries SKAM, which used short video clips, chats, messages and Instagram posts to move the story forward. This fic will therefore be told through scenes and snippets, as well as the occasional texts, quotes and newspaper articles. They may be short, but they’ll still have important parts to play.
> 
> For those who know this story from the blog already, I’ll write in the notes of each chapter if I’ve changed or added anything. For those of you who don’t know it, I’d recommend following the story here only, since there are both minor and major changes to be made. I’m planning on updating regularly until I’ve caught up with the blog anyway, and after that, we’ll just have to see.
> 
> \---
> 
> I’m on [tumblr](https://tyskerunge.tumblr.com) if you want to get in touch with me outside of AO3.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Nothing written in my fanfictions is real – I have made absolutely everything up. These persons belong exclusively to themselves, and when I write about them, I see them as _characters based on the real persons_ , not the actual alive and breathing people. I make no profit from my writing, and I do not mean to offend or harass anyone with my works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on this chapter: New!  
> Set: Just before the news broke in May 2016.

“Hey, Kevin!” Pia greets him cheerfully, always so quick to pick up when he calls her.

“Hi, Mum…”

He’s home alone for the moment, having come home a little earlier from training than planned and Carolin’s still out shopping with some of her friends – all of them still oblivious to what’s going on inside her belly. No one knows yet, not even their parents, but they’ve been talking about it for a few days now, thinking about having the important talks, letting their families in on their still so very little, but soon to become much bigger secret.

They are going to do it together, officially, but Kevin needs to let his mum know off the record first. Needs to discuss certain things with her that he can’t bring up in Carolin’s presence.

“Something wrong?”

“It’s…” Kevin struggles to find the right word for it. Because on one hand, there’s nothing wrong about it at all, it’s just fantastic and wonderful, but on the other…

“Yes,” he replies, then adds quickly, “and no. Both. I don’t know.”

“Just take it from the beginning and we’ll try to work from there, okay?”

A thankful smile spreads briefly across his lips.

“Yeah. Well. There’s nothing wrong, but… Life’s going to change from now on. A lot. And it’s a nice change in and of itself, it just… complicates a lot of things.”

“I see. Is it something you can let me in on?”

“Not really, but I’m going to anyway. I have to.”

He draws a deep breath and closes his eyes.

“Caro and I are going to have a baby.”

Complete silence on the other end of the line, and then, “Oh, Kevin…”

“Yeah.”

“Congrats first of all–”

“Thanks.”

“– but that’s not really what you want to hear from me, is it?”

“Not really, no. I’ve–” He pauses, draws another breath, whispers, “I’ve messed up really, really bad this time, Mum.”

Pia sighs. “How far is she?”

“Not quite three months yet.”

“So this is not the official talk.”

“No. We want to do it together, later. She doesn’t even know of this call, and I expect it to stay that way.”

“Of course, she won’t hear it from me. You’re calling to talk about Manuel, aren’t you?”

“… Yeah.”

“Have you told him yet?”

“… No.” Another pause. “He’s gonna hate me, Mum. I know we’ve both messed up in the past, but this? This is different, this is so much _more_. Nothing I do will ever make up for it. He’s never gonna forgive me.”

“Oh, my boy,” Pia sighs. “I’d love to tell you he will, but…”

“It’s okay, Mum, there’s no need to pretend. You know him, you know us. He won’t.”

“I know. I just wish…” She trails off, pauses, then sighs heavily. “He’s be so good for you, Kevin. I haven’t told you, but I really can’t imagine a better son-in-law.”

If it weren’t for the fact that they’ll soon be over, done, history, her words would’ve made him smile. Now, they just sting in his heart. What are the chances he’ll ever find someone like that again?

“I know,” he agrees, tone tired and resigned. “I know, he’s the best. He doesn’t deserve this, and I’m so sickened by myself because I’m doing it to him anyway. I’m sorry, Mum. I’m so sorry for screwing up everything.”

Not that they’ve been perfect, far from it. But now that Kevin knows that it’s over, it’s so much easier to see what they have, how good they are for each other, and how much he loves it, craves it, needs it.

And things have actually been going well for them lately. They text regularly, and not two weeks ago they met up and spent the whole evening together without fighting, just grabbing something to eat, hanging out, talking… On the way back, Manuel had had to park in the car park further down the street, and since there had been no one in sight, they had crossed a few lines and had sex in the back of the car. Fully dressed, but Kevin can still feel how he clung to Manuel’s hair, Manuel’s lips against his throat and their hands shoved down each other’s trousers. Afterwards, in the shadows of the trees, backed up against the car, Manuel had given him a good night snog intense enough to make his knees go weak all over again, until Kevin had had to force himself to pull away and walk the rest of the way home.

Not two weeks ago, they were happy and content, and now, he’s about to destroy all of that; empty a full petrol tank, light up a match and set fire to the one thing that matters more to him than everything – more than football, more than life. Is life ever going to be happy again after this?

But he’s been here before and he knows what he’s facing. The last time they finished things, when Manuel packed his goalkeeper gloves and fucked off to Bayern, telling Kevin to fuck off in the process, it had hurt like hell until they somehow managed to get back to something actually resembling a relationship. And back then, when they first started, it hadn’t even been more than a sex-based arrangement – yes, Kevin had kind of considered Manuel his boyfriend, but it wasn’t something they had actually talked about. This time around, they actually _are_ boyfriends – still not free of issues, but better than when they started out, having worked through at least _some_ of their problems.

How much and for how long is a break-up going to hurt then?

“I know you are,” Pia replies, bringing him out of his train of thought. “Just… Please tell him before the news go public. He deserves to hear it from you.”

“I will. I owe him that much.”

Silence, then, “I’m really gonna miss him.”

“Yeah, Mum. Me too.”

And then he can’t hold back the tears any longer.


	2. News pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on this chapter: Minor changes.

It’s a painful, painful day the day Kevin tells Manuel what he wishes he didn’t have to tell. It’s been a week since the phone call with his mother, a couple of days since he and Carolin had the official talks with their parents, and tonight, Carolin has made plans with all her friends to tell them the big news. A perfect excuse for Kevin to tell her that he’s going to hang out with some friends too, but instead drive all the way to Munich.

It takes him about two hours each way, but it’s not like he’ll stay very long. Once Manuel hears what’s going on, Kevin will be kicked out at once, if they don’t have a brief, loud, angry fight first.

He’s quieter than usual when he arrives, less enthusiastic, less comfortable, and Manuel picks up on it immediately. Kevin isn’t surprised. He’s been nervous since long before the phone call with his mum, and Manuel’s not stupid – of course he’s realised that something isn’t right.

“Do you have something to tell me?” he asks as they sit down in the kitchen.

Kevin avoids the look Manuel’s sending him and rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. He takes a deep breath. Best to just get it over with, there’s no point in beating around the bush.

“Caro’s pregnant,” he whispers, instantly regretting the words and hoping in vain that Manuel didn’t hear them. Because there’s absolutely no going back from here. Because they’ll never be fine again. Because this time it’s all on him.

For what feels like minutes, it’s completely silent between them, but he can see clearly that Manuel’s doing his utmost to restrain himself.

“Is it yours?” he finally asks, his voice quivering with exertion and his jaw set in a tight line.

Kevin doesn’t trust his voice, just nods.

Manuel curls his hands into fists, bites his teeth together, and Kevin’s suddenly scared that he’ll punch something, or _someone_ , but then the keeper gets up and stares down at him.

“Go to hell,” he snarls, pointing towards the front door, and Kevin cringes under the ice-cold, blue eyes, which even with their rival history have never looked at him like _this_ , the words boring into his heart and curling themselves around it. “Get out, get lost and don’t you ever, _ever_ call me again, especially not when that girlfriend of yours finds out you’re gay and leaves you alone with a kid in your arms.”

Kevin looks up with a pleading look in his eyes, getting up from his chair.

“Manu, I’m–”

“Don’t say it,” Manuel bites out. “Don’t you _dare_ say it.”

One last look, but Manuel’s avoiding his gaze, and so he leaves the flat without another word.

All the way back to Stuttgart, Kevin drives with the feeling that his heart’s going to burst.


	3. Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on this chapter: Minor changes/additions.

The anger hits Manuel like an unexpected, brutal punch in the chest, in the _heart_ , threatening to choke him. Of all the things he had expected Kevin to tell him, this was definitely the last one. He had expected another transfer, retirement, a new fake girlfriend, marriage, maybe another stupid, horrible mistake that the media would blow out of proportions in a few days; hell, even a _break-up_ had crossed his mind, but not this. Never this. Not a _baby_.

And he knows that if he doesn’t get Kevin out of there immediately, it’s going to affect something, someone, one way or another.

The second he hears the door fall shut behind his ex, he grabs the first thing within his reach, doesn’t care what it is, and throws it into the wall as hard as he possibly can. It shatters into a thousand pieces, shards of glass exploding all over the room. Then he spins around, tears open the cupboards, searches for something else he can throw and break and _crush_ , and his eyes fall on a black and yellow mug, Kevin’s favourite, the one he always uses when he’s over. The one Manuel got him for Christmas after moving to Munich.

The mug makes contact with the wall, along with a row of other things he doesn’t bother to throw a second look, and after that, his palms and knuckles get themselves a few rounds against the wall as well. It leaves the wall without a single scratch, quite in contrast to his hands.

When he’s finally done throwing, punching, crying, screaming the anger out of his mind and body, he sits worn out on the floor with bloody knuckles, staring blankly in front of himself, surrounded by shattered glass, trying to think of an explanation as to why it hurts so much. Because that Kevin’s had a girlfriend on the side isn’t the worst; it was something he was more or less forced to do, and they had talked it through and agreed was necessary for their own safety. And to be fair, Kevin isn’t the only one to have found himself a fake relationship at one point.

It’s also not the fact that he’s… _been_ with her, kissed her, cuddled her, slept with her; it hurts, of course it does, but he was aware that it was going on, that it had to be that way, otherwise the whole relationship wouldn’t have had any credibility. He _knew_ , even though he never heard it out loud.

No, the worst, the absolute _worst_ thing about this whole mess, the reason his heart feels exactly like the kitchen looks, is that now Kevin – _his_ Kevin – will be bound to some girl for the rest of his life. They share something which is bigger than themselves, something bigger than just the two of them, a connection and a bond that will last forever, one he and Kevin don’t have and never will, no matter how much they wish for it. Nothing they’ve ever had will ever even come close.

Secretly, even though he’s never told Kevin this, he’s always dreamed of them having a little kid together one day. Some day after their careers were over, when they had settled down in the Ruhrgebiet for good and needed something to do with their lives, other than bore each other to death. An adorable little one that would grow up with a heart of both Borussia yellow and royal blue, but – more importantly – a hundred percent black and white. A footballer, a mechanic, a teacher, a florist, a dancer, a nurse, an electrician… it wouldn’t matter, as long as it would be _their_ kid.

And now that Kevin’s actually having one, Manuel thinks and leans his head back against the wall with a resigned, distressed whimper, it won’t be a part royal blue one, and it won’t be with him.


	4. Distrust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: New!  
> Set: During the summer break after the 16/17 season.

“Kevin?”

The barely audible whisper breaks the heavy silence in the room. Quickly, Kevin wipes the back of his hand across his cheek, breathes in through his nose and tries to keep his voice steady as he whispers back, “Yeah?”

“Are we okay?”

Are we okay. For a long while, the words echo in the room, ringing in Kevin’s ears, despite Carolin’s soft, hushed voice. He wipes his hand across his cheek again, further back towards his ear this time. If he could only give her a positive answer to that and mean it.

“Why do you ask?” he settles on instead.

The duvet shifts slightly as she shrugs. “I just feel that something has changed.”

“In what way?”

“You tell me. You’re the one who’s not acting like yourself.”

The words sting – not because of the accusation they carry, but because they hit closer to home than Carolin probably realises. He hasn’t felt like himself in a long time, he thinks bitterly, recalling the thousands of silent tears, and the shatters of a broken heart he’s working on piecing back together, all while trying to be a footballer, the boyfriend of someone he’s not able to love the way he should, and the father of a six months old little boy.

“Do you think I’ve changed that much?”

Now it’s Carolin’s time to fall silent.

“Both yes and no,” she finally whispers. “I was too focused on the pregnancy to notice when I carried André; too focused on him after he was born. You had the team to think of. But now…”

She turns over on her side and inches closer. “I thought things would get better when we finally got some time to ourselves again. Just the two of us and André. But it just… I can’t quite put my finger on it. It just isn’t the same as before.”

“The same as when?”

“As when we first became a couple.”

It’s almost pitch-dark in the room, but Kevin’s eyes have adjusted enough by now for him to see the sore glimpse in Carolin’s eyes.

“And it’s not the kind of change you appreciate.”

She shakes her head. “And I can’t help but think that it’s me. That I’m at fault somehow. That I’m not enough for you anymore.”

“What makes you say that?” he asks as he turns over on his side as well. “If I’ve done anything to make you feel that way, that was by no means my intention–”

“I’m not done.” She reaches behind herself and grabs her phone. She quickly turns down the brightness, opens it and swipes a couple of times.

“It’s hard not to think in those directions when there’s this.”

She turns her phone for him to see, and Kevin’s breath catches in his throat.

The photo is dark and blurry, but clear enough for him to recognise himself pressing someone against a car, lips locked and hands grabby. It takes him a moment to remember the situation – even though he knows who the other person must be, the photo is too dark to make out any features – but then it dawns on him. Him, Manuel, that last time in the car before he told the goalkeeper the news.

“Caro, I’m–”

“You don’t have to explain,” she cuts him off, but unlike what he expected, she doesn’t sound angry. “I know that it’s normal for footballers to cheat on their girlfriends.”

He feels another sharp sting in his chest, one he too easily recognises as guilt. That is not a sentence anyone should say with ease. This is not something anyone should accept just because it seems to be the standard.

“Caro, I didn’t–” he begins, but breaks off immediately after when he realises that it’s pointless. No matter what the truth sounds like to his ears, it’s going to sound like cheating to hers. “If it’s any consolation at all, it was nothing. It’s over, and we haven’t met since.”

He hears her sigh as she puts away her phone again.

“It doesn’t change the fact that it happened.”

“I know.”

“When I was more than two months pregnant with André.”

“Yes.”

She turns away then, pulls her duvet tighter around her shoulders. Assuming that the discussion is over, Kevin turns around too and closes his eyes.

He has entered some kind of slumber when he perceives a distant rustling, followed by a sharp light filling the room. He covers his eyes with a groan.

“Caro, wha–”

“You know what? This is actually not okay.”

He tries to look in her direction while keeping his hands in front of his eyes, shielding them from the sudden bright light from the night lamp. His heart sinks when he sees her sitting upright on her side of the bed, the duvet drawn up to her chest and a much more pained look on her face now than before.

“What’s not okay?”

“You have to _ask_?”

Kevin bites his lip and slaps himself mentally. “I meant, which part exactly are you referring to?” he tries to specify as he too sits up.

“I confronted you about _cheating_ , and you didn’t even deny it,” she forces out; her voice is already close to breaking. “You just said yes, shrugged as if it were nothing, and left it at that. You couldn’t even bring yourself to say that you’re sorry!”

He opens his mouth to respond, only to close it again as he thinks back. He tried to, he wanted to, he was about to, but then… shit.

“I was going to, but I didn’t think it would mean much. I didn’t know how to do it in a way that would matter, and then you said that I didn’t have to explain.”

“Not wanting an explanation is not the same as not wanting an apology,” she bursts out and presses a hand to her mouth, fighting back a sob that takes her by surprise as much as it does Kevin.

He feels for her in that moment. Thinks back to all the times he and Manuel hurt each other and how much it destroyed them. He should’ve learnt, after so many years, but here he is, once again stuck in a situation that will only end in pain no matter how he handles it.

“I didn’t think there was anything I could say or do to make it better.”

“And you thought saying nothing would?”

He meets her gaze then, two pairs of eyes colliding, both pairs hurt and broken but for entirely different reasons. “No.”

Once again, silence fills the room. Carolin is clearly waiting for him to continue.

“Shit, I– I was taken aback, okay?” He looks away, rubbing his neck, pressing his lips together. “I didn’t think you knew. And I thought it would be best if I never mentioned it, because I know how cheating can hurt people, and I promised myself it wouldn’t happen again. And it hasn’t, and it won’t.”

“The lying can hurt just as much as the cheating itself,” Carolin whispers.

“I know. But it was once, and I thought… If you didn’t know, I’d only make it worse if I told you. That it would make you suspicious when you didn’t have to be. I didn’t want to put you in that position.”

He meets her eyes again, only a fracture of a second this time before she turns away, once again using her hand to fight back her whimpers.

“But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for doing it in the first place, I’m sorry for not telling you, and I’m sorry for not reacting accordingly when you confronted me just now. And with the risk of repeating myself, it hasn’t happened since, and it won’t. Ever.”

She wraps her arms around her shoulders and nods, but still refusing to meet his eyes. He wants to reach out, touch her, pull her close, comfort her in the ways he can, but he’s afraid to overstep her boundaries, to make her even more upset than she already is.

He lets out a heavy sigh and rubs a hand over his face. If he only knew the right things to say and do in a situation like this.

“What did she have that I didn’t?” Carolin suddenly asks, her voice weak, clouded by the tears and sobs she’s trying to hold back.

 _Big hands and a great cock_.

“Nothing. It didn’t have anything to do with her, it was all me. I can’t even remember why, but I guess I needed a timeout.”

“… from me?”

“Not from anyone. Just, everything that went down. Leaving BVB, the months in Istanbul, not being able to play, all the criticism in the media, another new club, a _baby_ … I’ve never been good at handling pressure or big changes, and suddenly I had all these at once, and I needed to blow off some steam. Get it out of my system. And I didn’t want to take it out on you, because it wasn’t your fault and you didn’t deserve it, so.” He pauses for a moment. “I know how this sounds, but I’m not trying to excuse what I did, merely explain how it came to it.”

“So you didn’t, like, love her or anything.”

“No.”

Thinking of the person as a woman makes it easier to lie.

“And it hasn’t happened since.”

“No.”

Carolin falls silent for a moment as she tries to process the information.

“I just– just– just…” Carolin breaks off with a hoarse, sudden scream and pulls at her hair, biting her teeth so hard together that Kevin fears that something in her jaw is going to snap. “I don’t get it! _I’m_ supposed to be the one you come to, I’m your _girlfriend_! And if there’s something I can’t handle, that’s on me, not you! I thought I had made that clear already, you can let me in on anything that troubles you, no matter what it is. I’ve supported you through everything, even when most people turned their backs on you. And still you don’t trust me?”

“I do, but–”

“Then–”

“I don’t even trust myself when the pressure becomes too much.”

“But that…” Carolin cuts herself off with a resigned sigh. “That also means that you can’t guarantee that it won’t happen again.”

“You can never really guarantee anything, though, can you? There’s always a chance that something gets in the way. But for what it’s worth, I don’t want to, and I don’t plan to do anything like this ever again.”

“But you didn’t want to nor plan to before you did it in the first place, did you?”

“N–”

His response drowns in a loud cry from the next room, and Carolin curls into a ball, pressing her hands to her ears.

“I can’t do this right now. We just came back from a long flight, I’ve barely slept these past nights, I’ve got tons of things–”

He wraps his arms around her then, a spontaneous move he makes despite the fact that she probably doesn’t want any physical contact right now. She doesn’t protest though, so after a few seconds of panic that he overstepped, they’re both leaning into it.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“No, you _don’t_.”

“But I can understand your need for a break.”

Carolin nods slowly into his embrace, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

“Just sleep for now, turn off your alarm, and I’ll go take care of him. Sleep for as long as you need, I won’t wake you.”

“But when you come back–”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the sofa.”

He pulls away and gets up, not wanting to leave the little baby hanging.

“Kevin?” Carolin asks just as he’s about to close the door behind himself.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to need a longer break than just one night.”

He just nods; he got that much.

“Take as much as you need.”


	5. Time off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: New!

Carolin’s still asleep when Kevin wakes up the next morning. He stretches, muscles aching and joints snapping after having spent half the night on the sofa, and goes to check on André. The little baby’s sleeping peacefully for now, but knowing that he’ll probably wake Carolin the moment he starts crying, Kevin gently picks him up and decides to take him for a stroll in the sun.

He leaves a note for Carolin, grabs the baby bag and slips his wallet into his pocket. He’ll just buy himself breakfast somewhere if the hunger gets too bad.

* 

When he comes back a little after noon, having spent the whole morning with André in the park, there’s a suitcase crowding up the hallway – one they didn’t leave like that when they came back from their holiday yesterday. The baby’s sleeping peacefully again, so Kevin pushes the pram into a corner and prays that whatever state Carolin’s in, they won’t get into a (loud) fight.

“Caro?” he calls as he enters the kitchen.

“Here,” comes the distant reply from the living room.

She’s surrounded by a couple of bags, currently busy packing them with stuff that’s been temporarily placed on the sofa. Kevin swallows. Carolin keeps her gaze fixed on her packing.

“Are you going somewhere?”

A curt nod.

“It’s that break you mentioned, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Carolin closes the bigger bag and straightens up. She runs a hand through her long, blonde hair and meets his eyes. “I need distance if I’m going to figure this out.”

“Sure.”

A long pause follows as Carolin keeps packing.

“Do you need me to drive you somewhere?” Kevin asks when she’s nearly done.

“No. My best friends are coming to pick me up.”

“All the way from Dortmund?”

“Yes.”

“Already?”

“Yes. I called them early this morning.”

“And they were ready to drive just like that?”

Carolin pauses. “My friends all know that I haven’t been very happy lately. I’ve had an open invitation to call them anytime and they would come get me.”

“And you haven’t talked to me about it?”

“I guess I should have,” she begins, not sounding very regretful, “but honestly? I didn’t feel comfortable bringing it up. I knew I had to get out the second I did, and I couldn’t exactly do that in the middle of the season or when we were holiday, could I?”

“But what about André?”

“What about him?”

“He’s our baby. _Your_ baby. He needs his mother. And I’ll start training soon. Not that I’ll be gone for more than a few hours at the time, but I can’t exactly leave him home alone.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve arranged with Kati down the street to take care of him when you’re in training.”

“Really?” He’s actually surprised by the amount of planning she’s done. She must’ve thought about this for a very long time. “Does she have the time for it, though? I thought she was a trainee.”

“She’s currently searching for a position, but hasn’t found one yet. She was just happy to be offered something to do.”

“Oh.”

“She’ll do fine, I’m sure. I’ve met her with André plenty of times.”

“If you say so.” He tries to send her a smile. She doesn’t even seem to notice, her eyes focused on her bags.

“But aren’t you gonna miss him?”

Carolin stops in the middle of the movement. “Of course.” A heavy sigh. “But I need a break from everything, Kevin. Including him.”

“Okay.”

“With Kati’s help you should be able to manage on your own.”

“He’s going to miss you, though.”

She sighs again. “Kevin, please. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“It should be hard to leave your six months old baby.”

“And it is, believe me, okay? But I can’t be here right now. I need distance if I’m going to figure out not only what I want, but what I _need_.”

“If this is still about me cheating on you, then–”

“It’s not. That’s actually the least of my problems right now. It bothers me a great deal more that I don’t feel loved or wanted by you.”

“Caro, I do–”

“Please don’t say it. You’re only going to make it worse.”

She finishes packing and closes the last bag. Despite her protests, Kevin helps her bring them in to the hallway. When she spots the pram, she walks over and peeks down at their baby. He must be sleeping since she doesn’t pick him up, but Kevin can hear her soft voice as she whispers to him. Eventually, she bends down to kiss him, before pulling back reluctantly to put on her shoes.

“He’s going to miss you,” Kevin repeats when she reaches for a thin summer jacket. “We both are.”

“I’m going to miss him too.”

She sends him a long look; Kevin waits patiently for her to say something. She doesn’t, seems to space out, and is only brought back when the phone in her pocket suddenly pings.

“That must be them.”

“Yeah.”

“I better get going.”

“Take care.”

“Yeah.”

This time she pushes him away when he tries to help her with the luggage. She’s out of the door when she turns around and looks at him for the last time.

“I can’t make any promises.”

“That’s okay.”

“This could be it.”

“I’m aware.”

“And I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

No. Wait. _Not_ okay. Training is one thing, but the training camp… “You’ll be back before next month, though, right?” he adds.

“I can’t promise that.”

“But–” Kevin suddenly panics. “I have training camp starting next month! A few hours a day is okay, but I can’t leave André with Kati for weeks!”

Carolin shrugs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how long I’ll need the distance. Maybe your parents can help.”

“I can’t ask that of them, we’re talking about two full weeks here! André’s still so young, he _needs_ his parents.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something. But you can’t count on me.”


	6. Sleep deprivation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may as well mention this sooner rather than later: since so much of this story was written before the baby was born and Kevin was kicked out of Stuttgart, it follows a storyline of a baby boy instead of a girl (as you’ve already read), and Kevin staying at Stuttgart for however long I need him to. The same goes for the other real life things that were written and planned out before they happened!
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Rewritten to fit the new chapters, but no major changes.

This was not how he had expected his life to turn out.

Kevin moves a screaming André from the crook of one elbow to the other, forcing back a distressed sound, resisting with everything in his body the urge to get angry.

None of this is the little boy’s fault. He can’t, _can’t_ forget that.

Stupidly, naïvely, he’d thought that things would get better once the baby was born. That things would just magically fall into place. That it would bring joy back to their lives and life back to their relationship, enough for him to ignore the fact that Carolin was a girl and that the love of his life didn’t want anything to do with him ever again.

Besides, his football career was getting back on track. He was back in Germany in a club he liked and felt welcome at, he was playing, and he was getting along well with his teammates. It wasn’t BVB, but it was so, so much better than Galatasaray. He’d experienced the alternative and would never again not appreciate being at a club where he was able to actually do his job. Even the 2. Bundesliga couldn’t take away the joy of being able to play regularly, the excitement in the locker room and the adrenaline on the pitch, the atmosphere in the stadium and the dedication from the fans. Fans who were happy to have him there, despite knowing very well where his loyalties really lie.

Kevin sighs heavily as André screams louder, the sound piercing his ears, leaving them ringing for almost a minute.

It’s been more than a week since Carolin left, and the poor little boy has barely been able to sleep since. He does eat, but getting him to calm down has been near impossible ever since he realised that his mother’s not around and doesn’t seem to come back. Kevin, naturally, hasn’t been able to sleep much either, and he’s definitely nearing the limit of how much exhaustion he can take.

He brings André up close to his chest, presses a kiss to his head, humming as he rocks the tiny body gently, whispering in low, calm voice.

No effect. André just screams louder.

While the little boy’s obviously missing his mother, Kevin himself has gone from missing her like crazy, to hating her fiercely, and back again. Back and forth, back and forth, until he has no idea what to feel anymore. Right now, though, he just needs to get André to sleep, so that he can finally catch some of his own. The past few days, he hasn’t even been at training due to the exhaustion, and the press is slowly starting to speculate.

Press speculating is the absolute last thing he needs.

Restlessly, he walks around in the bedroom, rocking the baby in his arms, trying to hum lullabies and cuddle him the best he can, but to no avail. André just cries louder and more intense, wriggling in his grip.

With a heavy sigh, Kevin puts André back into the crib, which he’s moved into his and Carolin’s bedroom, and sits down on the double bed, reaching for his phone. _23:34_ the bright screen tells him.

It’s too late to contact Kati – not that there’s any point, because none of her attempts to get André to calm down have had any effect either. Still he unlocks the phone, opens the phone book and scrolls until he finds a number he hasn’t used in well over a year. At first, he just sits there, staring at the short, precise name with five letters – two consonants hugging three vowels –, but he knows that if he waits too long, he won’t be able to do what he has to do. He knows he shouldn’t, he knows it’ll likely only make things worse, but he’s out of options and he’s desperate. He can’t go on much longer without sleep and rest.

With a pounding heart, sweaty palms and a lump in his throat threatening to choke him, he chooses the number and brings the phone to his ear.

“ _Yeah_?” a drowsy, sleepy voice answers after about a minute. Kevin’s mouth goes dry and he has to clear his throat, before he manages to get across a hushed reply.

“Hey, Manu, it’s… me. Kevin.”

For a long moment, it’s completely silent on the other end of the line.

“Fuck off,” Manuel eventually snaps.

“No, wait, don’t! Please, don’t hang up! Just–”

“I thought I told you never to call me again.”

“I know, I know, and I’m so sorry for doing it, but I need, I…” A deep sigh. “I need help. And you’re the only one I know down here in the south. I wouldn’t have called otherwise, I swear.”

“Forget it.”

“Please, Manu. Caro, she… She’s not here. She’s away. But the kid…” He cuts himself off, figuring that the screaming must be loud enough to be heard even through the phone. “The only thing I need is to make him fall asleep, that’s all, nothing more. He hasn’t been able to sleep since–”

“Then sing him a Schalke song.”

“What?”

“Worked on me.”

“Manuel!” Kevin means to stress it only a little, but his voice breaks in the middle and ends on a weak, pathetic whine, and he squeezes his eyes shut in embarrassment. He pauses, draws a deep breath, then, _“_ Please, she didn’t leave because I’m gay, okay? She doesn’t know, I haven’t told her. She needed a break, so she packed her bags and left, last week, left me alone with André, and–” He draws another breath. “I know you told me not to call if she found out, but if she hasn’t…”

Another long, painful moment of silence. Kevin’s about to break it, when suddenly Manuel snaps again.

“Just this once.”

Then the goalkeeper hangs up.

*

Three hours later, it’s finally quiet for the first time in a week, and then it doesn’t matter that the little baby indeed needed a Schalke song to fall asleep. Kevin’s too tired and worn out to care, can’t even find it in him to comment on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he barely registers the contour of Manuel carefully putting the now sleeping André back into the crib and tucking him in, before turning back around. He can feel Manuel’s eyes on him, but he’s unable to move, overwhelmed by the sudden silence, and he’s not strong enough to look his ex in the eye anyway.

“When is she coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“ _Is_ she coming back?” Manuel emphasises, and Kevin sighs, putting his face in his hands.

“I don’t know.”

Manuel sighs as well, and the unspoken ‘I told you so’ hangs heavily in the air. A hand squeezes Kevin’s shoulder briefly, and he wants to lean against it, but then it’s already gone.

“I need to get back.”

“No, don’t,” Kevin starts, but cuts himself off immediately when he looks up and is met with a tense, cold expression. He clenches his jaw, squeezes his eyes shut and nods weakly.

“Can I call you again?” he still brings himself to ask, even though he fears the response he might get.

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

With that, Manuel leaves the flat, and Kevin’s left alone in the silent dark.

~*~

The next night, when Kevin once again can’t get André to calm down, he gives Manuel another call. This time, however, he doesn’t ask the goalkeeper to come over.

“If you could just send me a recording of yourself singing that Schalke song, I promise I won’t call you again.”

Quite taken aback by the rather strange request, Manuel replies that yeah, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. A few minutes later, it ticks in on Kevin’s phone, and less than half an hour later, both he and André are fast asleep.

The song and Manuel’s voice simply work wonders on André, and that is not the last time Kevin uses it. The fact that he falls asleep just as fast himself, he tries not to think about too much.

That’s just the exhaustion speaking, nothing more – a Schalke song would never have such an effect on him.


	7. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, just a tiny piece of advertisement: For those of you who’ve read another story of mine, _Du Fortenar Ein Som Meg_ , I have a so-called request concert going on on my [tumblr blog](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/tyskerunge/179420562537), where you can request one shots from that particular ‘verse. Check out the post for more information and where to request. (Please don’t do that in the comments of this chapter.) I’d love to get a few before November and NaNoWriMo kick off on Thursday!
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: New/replaces the chapter “Rumours”.

Carolin doesn’t come back before the training camp starts. Kevin praises himself lucky that he has a wonderful set of parents, who still have a few weeks left of their holiday and are just happy to help him out. The second week, they even come down to the training camp to visit him, bringing André along with them. Even though it’s supposed to be a family free zone, the coach is kind enough to grant Kevin permission to see his son once he has explained the situation.

The whole situation.

Because if there’s one thing Kevin doesn’t want to go through again, it’s being forced by another club into another relationship with another innocent girl, if the break Carolin has taken should result in a more permanent break-up. Which, frankly, he’s pretty sure it will. He can’t imagine that they’ll be able to go back to the way things were now. Not that there’s much to go back to anyway, going by how awful it seems to have been for her these past few months.

Kevin sighs and rubs a hand over his face as he enters the plane that will take them back to Germany. He never wanted to hurt her, but that seems to be inevitable now.

At least he has the club’s support, no matter what happens.

~*~

The weeks pass by, with both the 2. and 1. Bundesliga season starting before Carolin comes back, as if club football suddenly reminded her that she’s officially still a girlfriend and a mother. It takes Kevin by surprise when he comes home after training one day, coming up his driveway to find another car parked outside his flat, one he vaguely recognises as the one of a friend of Carolin’s. Kati’s bike is nowhere to be seen.

He pushes open the unlocked door and enters the hallway with his shoulders raised, guard up, not quite sure what to expect. Two suitcases and a bag almost block his way – the same ones Carolin took when she left – along with a pair of boots he bought for her on one of their holidays before she got pregnant. He wishes he’d known that she was coming, so that he’d have time to mentally prepare for what’s about to come. Now, he’ll just have to be spontaneous and make the best of it, and hope it doesn’t get too ugly.

Carolin’s standing in the middle of the living room, cradling a not only calm, but happy André to her chest. She’s dressed in dark jeans, a leather jacket and a beanie, as if she just came or was just about to leave. She barely looks up when she registers Kevin’s presence, her eyes only flickering in his direction.

“Hey,” he says, voice gentle, trying to put on a smile.

Carolin just presses her lips to André’s head and cradles him closer. André makes happy baby noises, clearly enjoying and appreciating the attention. When he’s this relaxed and comfortable around her, it hopefully hasn’t damaged him too much to be away from his mother this long at such a young age.

“I see you’ve moved the crib into your bedroom,” Carolin comments after a moment.

“Yeah. He was having trouble sleeping.”

Carolin raises an eyebrow, only to smile and coo at her baby next, tickling him, making him giggle back.

“Hang on – ‘your’?”

“Hm?”

“You said your. _Your_ bedroom.”

“I did, yes,” Carolin says, matter-of-factly, her voice even.

“I take it you’ve made up your mind, then.”

“Yes.”

“So why are you here?”

“To pick up some stuff I didn’t have the space to bring with me last time.” She cocks her head in the direction of the hallway. “You don’t have to worry; I’ve already packed. I was just waiting for you to come home so that André wouldn’t be left on his own.”

“I understand.”

“You don’t understand a thing.”

“I meant that you didn’t want to leave him alone. I understand that.”

“Oh. No, of course not. What do you take me for?”

Kevin just raises his shoulders. “I take it you won’t be taking him with you, then.”

Carolin grows quiet, her focus directed at her baby only. She must be noticing quite a difference; André’s grown a lot in the two months she hasn’t been around.

“I have a few things to get in order first. Where to live, what to do…”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you. I have contacts, I can–”

“I’d rather manage on my own,” Carolin cuts him off.

Kevin presses his mouth shut. Yeah, he gets that. He’d do the same. Who wanted to depend on their ex to get their life back in order after a break-up.

“I’ll let André stay here with you until then. He needs the stability.”

“I agree.”

Carolin looks up at him for the first time. “Don’t think that this is me giving away my baby for free,” she says, voice sharp. “I just need to get my life sorted first, so I know that I’ll be able to support both myself and him.”

“So you’re just going to take him back when it’s convenient for you?” Kevin asks, his voice harsher than he actually means to.

“Well excuse me for not being a professional athlete and being economically independent before finishing high school.”

Gently, she lays André down on the play mat they bought for him shortly before he was born, and heads for the kitchen. Kevin follows suit.

“I’m not expecting you to have everything in order immediately, but I don’t think it’s fair of you to just run off, come back after a few months, take off again, and then just expect to be handed the kid when it suits you. Say that takes you another few months – you’ll have missed half of his first year then.”

“Your point being?”

“Have you forgotten how important the first year is? The bonds you create, the trust you build up? If he spends months with me and no time with you at all…”

“I know what I’m risking,” Carolin snaps. “And don’t think for a second that this is easy for me. If I could’ve taken him with me right now, I would’ve, but I _can’t_. I’m caught between a rock and a hard place here, don’t you see that? There’s nothing in the world I want more than to take him with me, but I need stability for us both to do so, which I simply don’t have at the moment. I know it doesn’t help my case to be away from him, but what other choice do I have?”

“You could let me help you.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t want your help.”

“So your pride is more important to you than your son?”

“Of course it’s not! But receiving help from you wouldn’t mean stability. It wouldn’t mean independence. It would only rub salt in the wound and prolong the heartbreak, nothing more.”

Kevin draws a deep breath. He doesn’t want to say it, but hearing how much trouble this mess has caused her is starting to get to him. Fuck, he never should’ve signed that contract. He should’ve stood his ground and told the bosses to go fuck themselves. It would’ve cost him his future at BVB, but he lost that a year later anyway.

“You could stay,” he forces out.

Carolin scoffs. “No.”

“We could make it work.”

“You know just as well as I do that we couldn’t. Not after this.”

“I’m willing to try if it’ll make things easier for you.”

Carolin lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you even listening to yourself? This, Kevin, _this_ is the reason that’s not going to work. The reason _we’re_ not going to work. You’re not willing to try because you love me or miss me, you’re willing to try because it’ll help me out of a tricky situation.”

“Isn’t that what you do when you love someone?”

“No. Not when you put it like that.”

“Well tough that I didn’t put exactly the way you wanted it,” Kevin bites back. “I’m only trying to solve this in the best way possible.”

“For me or for yourself?”

For a long moment, they just stare at each other. Kevin wants to be angry with her for putting him in this position, but he doesn’t quite manage. He brought this on himself when he didn’t break it off when he had the chance. It’s not Carolin’s fault that he’s not able to love her. It’s not her fault that she was dragged into this mess.

“For André,” Kevin finally says, voice low and without strength.

Carolin presses a hand to her mouth and looks away. A single tear runs down her cheek, but she doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t let it get to her.

“Please believe me when I say that I too only want what’s best for him,” she says, her voice closing up in mid sentence.

Kevin nods, swallowing heavily.

“And living with two parents who don’t love each other just can’t be good for him. It won’t be good for anyone of us.”

Kevin nods again.

“And if a baby was what it’d take to fix what’s wrong between us, we wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.” Carolin’s voice lacks all strength by the end of the statement, and she’s struggling to hold back the tears.

“No, we wouldn’t,” Kevin whispers back. And then, after a pause, “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”

“So am I.”

With that, Carolin disappears into the hallway. Reluctantly, Kevin follows her, unsure what to do and how to act. What do you even say to someone who’s leaving for possibly the last time? All these years in a painful, destructive and unhealthy relationship with Manuel, and he’s still never found himself in a situation like this, where he’s the one staying behind and watching the other leave.

He leans heavily against the wall, eyes fixed on Carolin’s boots as she crouches down to put them on. One zipper, then another, then she straightens up and reaches for her handbag, flinging it over her shoulder.

“Just… tell me one thing, since we’re over anyway,” she says, taking Kevin by surprise. He’d thought she’d leave without another word or even a look in his direction. “Who was she?”

No. Not this. This whole thing is enough of a mess as it is. He’s already hurt her too much, she doesn’t need even more on top of that.

“I can’t.”

“What difference does it make?”

“It doesn’t make a difference. Just believe me when I tell you that it’s best for you not to know.”

“Well, it makes a difference to _me_ ,” Carolin snaps. “And if you think it’s so important that I don’t know the truth, you can bet your arse I want to hear it. Is it because it’s someone I know? One of my friends?”

“No.”

“Then it really can’t be that bad. Out with it,” she demands, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“You’re still not going to like it.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t asked.”

“I don’t care.”

“Caro, please, I–”

“Just tell me, goddamn it!”

Kevin squeezes his eyes shut, leaning his head back. He _can’t_ tell her. She has plenty of reasons to hate him as it is, he can’t give her yet another. Who knows how she’ll react. Who knows what she’ll _do_. It’s such private and intimate information, he can’t risk sharing that information with someone who’s likely to misuse it.

“We’re not together anymore. I’m not obliged to tell you anything.”

“We still have a baby together and I have to leave him in your care for who knows how long. I have a right to know.”

“You don’t. This is private information.”

“How the hell is this so private? So you fucked someone else once. Big fucking deal. There are plenty of footballers who’ve done it before you, don’t think you’re special.”

“It’s no big deal, and I don’t think I’m _special_ ,” he snaps back. “But if I say it’s private, it’s fucking _private_ , and I have the right to keep it to myself.”

“Why? Is it because you’re into some kinky shit?”

_I’m gay, it’s not a kink._

“Or are you protecting this other woman?”

 _It’s a man, and his name’s_ Manuel _._

“I’m not protecting anyone but myself.”

“You’ve got nothing left to lose, Kevin.”

“I do.”

“You _don’t_.”

“What the hell do you know about what I’ve got to lose and not?”

“More than enough. And you fucking _owe_ me after ruining our relationship like this.”

“Fine,” he says as he holds up his palms in defeat. _Fuck._ His heart suddenly picks up the pace, slamming against his ribcage, almost making him dizzy, his skin prickling, hands shaking. “Fine. If you’re so sure that you want the truth, you’re welcome, but don’t come complaining to me afterwards because you can’t stand it.”

This is such a bad idea.

“Like it could even surprise me.”

Kevin lets out a sarcastic, ugly bark of a laugh.

“Oh, I think it will.” He pauses, awaits a change in her posture, but she’s standing her ground, mouth set in a tight line, eyebrows raised, nodding for him to keep going. God, the poor girl has no idea what’s coming. She’s not going to be just as stone faced when she learns the truth. A truth that won’t do her any good at all, a truth she shouldn’t even know, but she probably won’t leave him alone until she does.

Fuck, Großkreutz, just be a man and get it over with.

“You see,” he continues, breathing in deeply, “the thing that should concern you is not who it was. It’s irrelevant, really. What matters is that it wasn’t a woman.”

Carolin’s eyes widen. “Wasn’t a wo–”

“No.”

“But that would mean–”

“Yeah.”

“… a man.”

“Indeed.”

“So, wait, you’re–” She cuts herself off, shakes her head, glares at him. “Am I understanding this correctly? You’re _gay_?”

Kevin draws another breath. “One hundred percent.”

Carolin’s mouth falls open. _“_ And it never once occurred to you to _tell me_?”

“I wanted to.”

“ _Wanted_? How the hell does that help me when you _didn’t_?”

“I know it doesn’t, but please believe me, Caro, I didn’t have a choice. I was contract-bound to keep my mouth shut. I meant to break it off long before it got serious, but then my injury came, the failed transfer, and before I knew it, I was in too deep, we were having a baby and simply I couldn’t.”

She as good as collapses against the hallway table, her hand pushing mail and keys out of the way as she reaches out to catch herself.

“Why the hell would you sign a contract like that?”

“To protect myself. To protect my future at BVB.”

_To protect the man I love._

“Do you realise how _fucked up_ that is?” she spits out. “Putting the football before everything else like that?”

“I know it doesn’t seem understandable right now, but please try to remember how much pressure I was under at the time. I was a single world champion who hadn’t played a match and supposedly didn’t deserve my medal, I had apparently been a little too close and friendly with some of my teammates, and I had been in the spotlight for months already for bad behaviour. You may think it’s fucked up, but I simply couldn’t afford more negative attention from the media.”

“And what about that contract now?”

“It would expire after a season of dating.”

“So you had the chance to break it off a lot sooner.”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“Why the _fuck_ didn’t you?”

“I’ve already told you, there was so much going on–”

“‘So much going on’? Are you even listening to yourself?” She huffs out a brief, hurt, desperate laugh. “There was so much going on because we were _planning our life_ together. We have a _baby_. Damn it, Kevin, I _loved_ you. Put my whole life and my heart out there for you, gave you _everything_ , supported you when nobody else did.”

Kevin presses his hands to his forehead, not able to look her in the eye. “I know.”

“All of that, only to learn that you’ve never actually loved me in return.”

“… not in the way you deserve, no.”

“And this…” Carolin pauses and gestures into the air. “… _man_. Do you love him?”

Kevin squeezes his eyes shut.

Draws a deep breath.

Nods.

He can’t see Carolin’s reaction, but he hears it – a surprised, pained gasp.

“So it’s still going on?”

“No.”

“How long, then?”

“I…”

“ _How long_?”

There’s no point in lying about anything anymore.

“Until I told him about the baby.”

“And you broke it off?”

“No. He did.”

“Well, you fucking deserved it,” she snarls out through clenched teeth. Then she breathes in and steadies herself, pulling at her jacket and adjusting her handbag. Just when she puts her hands on her suitcases, André’s cry pierces through the walls from the living room.

Kevin straightens up immediately, instinct pulling him in the direction of the sound before he can register that he’s moving.

“I’m not letting you take my baby,” Carolin barks at him.

Kevin spins around, glaring at her. The shock, the hurt, the pain in her eyes – suddenly it’s all gone, replaced by hate and anger and nothing else. Deep down, Kevin knows he can’t blame her, but when she brings up the topic of _his_ kid yet again, implying that she’ll take _his_ kid away from him, his patience and understanding wear thin.

“You left him for weeks, _months_ even. He’s staying with me.”

“He needs his mother. You said it yourself before I left.”

“I said he needed his _parents_. And you’ve been gone far too long to still call yourself that.”

“And you’re a gay footballer who’s never loved your baby’s mother. Not what I’d call an ideal parent either. I’ll get him back.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to fight me real hard on that.”

“Oh, I bloody will.”

With that, she grabs her things and disappears out the door. Shortly after, when Kevin’s standing in the living room with André in his arms, holding the little boy close to his chest, cradling him and softly humming the melody of Manuel’s Schalke song, he can hear the sound of a car driving off at high speed.


	8. Headlines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d just like to point out once again that much of this story was written and/or planned in 2016 and early 2017, long before Manuel was injured and was out from spring 2017 until the world cup 2018. Since the football in and of itself doesn’t play the biggest role in this story, especially in Manuel’s case, I’ve chosen not to rewrite the few parts that involve him playing and training as normal with the others.
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Minor additions.

Manuel’s only just back from the international break, and for the first time in forever, he oversleeps. He makes it to training just in time, after a record quick morning routine that didn’t involve any type of media like it tends to. Slightly out of breath after the stress and rush, uncomfortably disorientated because the morning didn’t start off in its usual manner, he starts jogging in an easy pace behind a few of the others, listening to their small talk with half an ear and letting his mind wander.

_Man, that one goal against Bayer. He wanted to start the season off with a clean sheet, damn it._

“Imagine doing something like that, when you have a kid together and everything.”

_But Werder was nice. No goals between his own posts, and a few late, but good ones on the other end of the pitch. Boom, smack, done. A smooth win._

“Shouldn’t’ve gotten a kid in the first place.”

_And international break was unexpectedly fun this time. Two very nice wins in a still undefeated row. Exactly like it should be._

“That guy’s never been quite sane, though.”

_Nice to see Marc and Bernd again as well. Oh, those two, snapping at each other in training, trying to pretend they don’t pay attention to the other’s performance – it really is fascinating to observe._

“Poor kid, never gonna get a mum now.”

_Christ, it’s always the same old gossip, can’t they just shut up already…_

“Hey, Manu!” Thomas calls from the other end of the pitch and comes sprinting towards him. Great, an overeager and excited Thomas is the last thing he needs this early in an already bad morning. Can’t he wait until after the training, at least?

But to his great surprise, Thomas doesn’t start some epic, energetic story where he’s gesticulating with his arms and feet in all directions. Instead, he falls into a relaxed jog beside Manuel, and when he eventually opens his mouth, his voice is low and calm.

“You… haven’t seen any news today, have you?”

“No?”

“Checked any social media, online newspapers… the like?”

“Should I?”

Thomas presses his lips together and considers for a second. “Not necessarily, I just know that you often do.”

“Was a stressful morning.”

“Right.”

“Why?” And now Manuel’s starting to grow suspicious. Thomas’s _not_ the person to be careful and vague about new information – usually, he blurts out anything and everything at any time, be it match results, transfer rumours, news from all over the world or even TV show spoilers.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really,” Thomas says, trying to shrug it off. “I just think a particular story of the day may be of certain interest to you.”

“And what may that be?”

“Well, you see…” Thomas seems to pause for effect. “It’s over between Kevin and his girlfriend.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake – _seriously_? And that is something Thomas has to bring up _now_? Why should he care? Manuel’s still angry with himself for giving in that night Kevin called him, but hearing Kevin’s voice so weak and broken had stopped him from working rationally for a moment – he’ll never be quite immune to Kevin, he knows that, no matter how hard he tries. They’ve been through too much for that. But he never should’ve accepted that call, and certainly not driven all the way to Stuttgart, because all the pain and hurt came back with full force. Finally, after endless attempts, he had managed to distance himself a little from the whole thing, only to out of the blue have Kevin add fuel to that nearly burned-out fire, ruthlessly and selfish, and everything flared up again.

And to stand there with the reason for their break-up in his arms…

Manuel turns towards Thomas with an angry glare and is about to give him in for bringing up the whole Kevin thing _again_ , but Thomas beats him to it.

“Don’t say anything, because that’s not the important thing here.”

“Oh no?” Manuel scoffs. “So why are you bringing it up?”

“Because his ex has gone to the press with the reason.”

Whatever, Manuel thinks and rolls his eyes, picking up his pace. Like he gives a fuck.

“Manuel…”

Something about the tone in Thomas’s voice – unhappy and regretful, pleading almost – makes him hesitate. The midfielder never calls him by anything but his nickname; full names aren’t a part of Thomas Müller’s vocabulary. It sounds far too formal and correct, two things that according to him don’t belong on a football pitch.

“ _What_ ,” Manuel hisses through clenched teeth, trying to ignore the sense of worry building up in the back of his mind.

“ _That_ reason.”

And an ice-cold shiver runs down Manuel’s spine.

“ _That_ reason?” Breathless, eyes blown wide, mouth falling open, and this time not because of the morning stress, the broken heart or the light jog.

“That reason.”

_Oh God, Kevin…_


	9. Texts I

_16:19_

**from manu:** hey theres a horde of paparazzi outside ur place where r u

 

_16:36_

**to manu:** at home

 

_16:37_

**from manu:** u r NOT. we both know how these things work theyve booked u in somewhere else

 

_16:43_

**to manu:** im not allowed to tell

**from manu:** just cut the fucking bullshit and tell me which hotel jfc


	10. Support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

With a heavy sigh, Kevin flings his phone on the bed and goes to check on André. He’s asleep for now, hopefully dreaming peacefully in the travel bed that’s been put in the hotel room, and a sad smile creeps over Kevin’s lips. He’s still just a baby, so innocent and pure, and he’s deserved so much better than this. What kind of life will Kevin even be able to give him now that he’s on his own, without any support or family nearby? And now that his biggest secret is out in the open, the press are never going to leave him alone. They’ll watch every single step he takes, not only on the pitch, but when it comes to a potential partner and how he manages as a parent. It’s a ride he’ll never be able to get off.

Not to mention how it’s going to be to come back in the team or in the stadium after today’s news.

He takes André’s tiny hand in his own, running his thumb over the baby’s fingers. He’s so small still, but Kevin remembers all too well how fast it went when Lenny was that age. He’ll grow faster than anyone can keep up with, and all of a sudden, far too soon, the real parenting starts. The hard and rough part of it, not just the smiles, the cuddles and taking care of basic needs.

Kevin closes his eyes and lets out another sigh.

What the hell does he even know about being a dad. Being a big brother is easy – you don’t have any responsibilities, you don’t have to make the tough decisions, you don’t have to be strict, you don’t have to say no and you don’t have to face the consequences. You’re just there for the fun and giggles and can jump off the ride for a few minutes, hours or even days if it gets too much. But being a parent…

A careful knock on the door brings Kevin back to reality. He throws André one last look, squeezes his tiny hand, then goes to open the door.

He would’ve been surprised to see Manuel there if it weren’t for the texts. Now, he just stands there, looking helplessly up at the goalkeeper, not knowing where to begin.

“Hey,” his ex says, his voice surprisingly soft. “Can I come in?”

Kevin nods weakly and steps aside, and as soon as the door has fallen shut behind them, Manuel wraps his big, muscular arms around him and pulls him into a warm, tight hug. Kevin couldn’t have refused or held back, even if he wanted to. He buries his face in the crook of Manuel’s neck, curls his hands into the fabric of Manuel’s t-shirt and stays there, feeling Manuel’s hands run up and down his spine.

For a long while, they’re frozen in that position, neither of them speaking and neither of them pulling away.

“I’m so sorry, Kevin,” Manuel eventually breaks the silence in that same soft voice. “No one deserves being outed like that.”

“I only have myself to blame,” Kevin whispers back, and tries to pull out of the hug, suddenly feeling strangely uncomfortable being this close to his ex.

“Don’t say that,” Manuel protests and just hugs him harder.

“But it’s–”

“Just don’t.”

Kevin sighs and keeps his mouth shut then; he knows better than to protest when Manuel sounds this determined.

He can’t tell exactly how long they stand like that, perhaps several minutes, but it comes to an abrupt end when André suddenly starts crying. Kevin’s whole body jerks awake at the sound, the strong instinct to run over and check on the little boy pulling him away from Manuel, but the goalkeeper holds him back.

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.”

“No, I have to–”

“Kevin.”

Manuel’s calm _don’t fight me on this_ voice actually makes him pause and look up.

“When was the last time you even slept through the night? Come on, go lie down, get some much needed rest, and I’ll take care of your boy.”

Kevin wants to fight it, wants to so badly, because that’s right, André’s _his_ boy, and if he’s not able to take care of him now, when will he ever, but the look Manuel’s sending him tells him that protesting won’t get him any further. So he pulls away and rubs his face with both hands, before whispering a weak, barely audible “fine”.

Ignoring the fact that Manuel’s still in the room, he strips down to his underwear and gets into bed. They were boyfriends once, for heaven’s sake, and he’s too tired and exhausted to care. He makes himself comfortable and pulls the duvet tight around himself, and just before his eyes fall shut, he sees Manuel lifting up André and bringing the baby close to his chest.

By the time Manuel’s gotten the boy to calm down, put him back to bed and tucked him in a while later, Kevin’s already drifted off into dreamland.


	11. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor additions/rewrites.

“What happens now?” Manuel asks a few hours later. Kevin’s awake again, André’s sleeping peacefully and they’ve started digging in to their room service order.

“The club’s arranged a press conference tomorrow before noon.”

“Will you be there as well?”

Kevin nods and moves the pasta back and forth on his plate.

“And what will you tell them?”

“The truth.”

Manuel drops his fork on the plate with a loud clink.

“What,” Kevin mutters.

“I don’t know, wouldn’t it be better to deny the whole thing?”

“Oh, you think?” Kevin snaps and looks up. “So the press will just stop speculating altogether, just like that, if I only say the magic words? No teammates, no other colleagues, no fans, no clubs will keep an extra eye on me and my personal life? No one will make homophobic comments, no one will keep their distance in the locker room or start wearing boxers in the showers, if I only deny a very reliable – not to mention true! – rumour concerning my sexuality? I’ve got news for you: it doesn’t _work_ like that.”

Of course Manuel knows that it doesn’t work like that; he’s been in the business for just as long as Kevin and dealt with the same fears all along. But this is still something else, this is so much more real, much more serious, much more concrete than just sitting around, fidgeting, imagining all kinds of worst case scenarios and coming to the conclusion that hell no, never in a million years. This is the _actual_ thing, and no one has any idea what they’re up against or how it’s going to turn out in the end.

“But this is your _life_ ,” Manuel can’t help but protest, “and it consists of so much more than just the outside world. What about your safety, your mental health, your well-being?”

“At this point, it’s still best to just tell it as it is, believe me. It won’t do me any good to keep it secret, it’s been hard enough as it is without anyone knowing or suspecting anything.”

“But what if–”

“Didn’t you just say that this was _my_ life?”

“Yeah, I know, but…” Manuel cuts himself off, struggling to find the right words. “What about André? You’re not alone anymore, you need to think of him as well.”

“I _am_.”

“By _outing_ yourself?”

“Listen, smart-arse, I’ve already _been_ outed, so I won’t actually have to do it myself. The only thing I have to do, is confirm that the rumours are true, and they sure as hell won’t stop swirling before I do, so honesty’s the best and pretty much only option here.”

“Kev, come on, you can’t know that for sure. Maybe the worst storm just needs to cool down, and if it doesn’t, we both know not-so-legal ways of getting out of tricky situations.”

“Yeah, maybe I’m just tired of living a lie, then, ever thought of that?”

Manuel tilts his head in a _you’ve got to be kidding me_ fashion. “Yeah, right. I _know_ you, and despite your sporadic oversharing in social media, you’re a very private person who’d rather go unnoticed by the media unless it’s directly linked to your profession, and you hate it when they write articles on other developments in your life.”

“You’re forgetting that we haven’t been in touch in quite a while. People change, especially when things – big things – happen in their lives. Would you believe me if I said that I chose to tell Caro the truth?”

Manuel’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, but I did,” Kevin confirms and turns his attention back to his dinner. “It was our last fight and we were over anyway. She was pushing, hard, wanted to know who I had cheated with, thought it was one of her friends, or maybe I was into some ‘kinky shit’, as she put it. I tried to push back, but I was already tired of lying, of going behind her back, of coming up with excuses. She didn’t deserve that. It wasn’t her fault that she was pulled into this.”

“Kev…”

“I don’t know, maybe a part of me wanted it to come out, too,” Kevin continues without looking up. “It’s certainly not ideal, but it isn’t exactly ideal to be living a lie either.”

“This still doesn’t make it fair of her to out you. I don’t want you to defend that.”

“I’m not. But I can understand where she’s coming from. Think of how long I’ve lied to her, how much she’s given of herself to someone who didn’t love her back.”

“But still–”

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to put the blame on her either, would it? I’ve brought this on myself, and I have to live with that now.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Yeah, well, after what I put her through, I probably deserve it. At least now we’re even.” Kevin leans back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Why do you even care?”

“Because I don’t understand why you’re giving in so easily!” Manuel bursts out, surprising even himself.

“Because she’s got pics, alright?” Kevin snaps right back, slamming his palms loudly on the table, and looks Manuel dead in the eye. “She’s got pics, and they are rather unambiguous, so if I were you, I’d keep my mouth the fuck shut. How far do you think denying the truth will get me? If she feels that she’ll need evidence to convince the public, the only thing she needs to do is post them on instagram or leak them to _BILD_ or some other shit magazine and believe me, she won’t hesitate.”

 _Oh God, oh no, oh fuck, fuck,_ ** _fuck_**. A wave of panic washes over Manuel and he swallows thickly, stealing a quick glance at his plate before pushing it away. All of a sudden, he’s not so hungry anymore.

“I’m actually surprised she hasn’t leaked them already,” Kevin goes on, “but I sure as hell don’t want to give her an excuse.”

“How detailed are they?” Manuel asks, voice thin and shaky, eyes still directed at the table.

Kevin sighs heavily and doesn’t reply at first, and as Manuel replays his own words in his head, he realises how they must’ve sounded – that he only cares about whether or not his head will land on the plate next to Kevin’s. Fuck, that wasn’t his intention at all, but now it’s already been said.

“You are, fortunately for you, not recognisable,” Kevin says eventually, his voice strained but calm. “But if those pics are leaked, some pro will without doubt do some neat digital trick on his computer and find out easily enough that you’re the one who’s with me.”

“Bloody hell…” Manuel leans back in his chair and rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So be grateful that I’m doing this, so that you won’t be dragged down to hell with me.”

When their eyes meet, Kevin’s are cold and emotionless, and Manuel figures it’s best to just keep his mouth shut and accept what he’s offered. He nods curtly and looks away, trying to find something else in the room to rest his eyes upon.

Just then, André starts crying again, and they both straighten up instinctively.

“You should leave now,” is the only thing Kevin says as he gets up to check on his boy. “It’s late, and you’ve still got to drive back to Munich.”

“Are you sure? I can stay, if you’d–”

“No. I’ve dealt with a lot already; I’ll find a way to deal with this, too.”


	12. Der Tag Wird Kommen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor additions.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this extraordinary press conference here at VfB Stuttgart. We take it for granted that you are all informed on the topic already, but just for the record: an unforeseen article concerning our player number 19, Kevin Großkreutz, was published in BILD yesterday, and we were all caught completely off guard. None of us saw this article and these accusations coming, which made it rather challenging to handle the situation spontaneously and correctly regarding the press and everyone involved. Unfortunately, this has led to a long list of different rumours being spread in all kinds of media, all of which are of a rather personal and intimate character. As you can probably imagine, we’ve set up this press conference in order to set things straight, most of all for Kevin’s sake. You will all get the chance to ask questions later, but first, I will give the word to Kevin himself. Kevin, if you please.”

Kevin sends Stuttgart’s sporting director a curt nod. He’s shaking and sweating, all the way from his feet to his forehead, and he just barely manages to keep his voice from breaking when he finally opens his mouth and says what needs to be said.

“Yeah, uhm, as you all know, my now ex girlfriend went to BILD, alleging that I’m… gay. And to be honest, I haven’t got much to say to that, other than–”

He has to pause, take a deep breath, try to still his galloping heart.

“Other than that it’s true.” His voice suddenly sounds surprisingly calm and composed, not at all how he feels inside. “I’m gay, I like men, I always have and I can’t imagine that that will ever change. Of course I wish that it hadn’t come out this way, especially considering my son, but now that it’s already out there in the open, I don’t see any point in denying it.”

When he leans back in his chair, his mouth is dry and his body is shaking and sweating again. He grips his thighs tightly with both hands and focuses on his breathing, but it doesn’t help much.

Neither does the fact that it’s completely silent in the room. Not one of the journalists says anything, not a single word is being written, not a single picture is being taken.

Finally, the coach speaks up.

“On behalf of the team, I just want to clarify that we support Kevin one hundred percent, and that his status on the team and in the club hasn’t changed in any way. He’s an invaluable player that we can’t imagine being without, and he’s proven that on so many occasions, so to let his sexual orientation stand in the way of that, would be fully absurd. We know that he’ll keep performing like ever and help the team in every way he can. Furthermore, I’d like to point out that it’s reprehensible of BILD to publish rumours about something so intimate and private, regardless whether this is a public person or not, without even talking to the person in question first.”

Kevin notices that the reporter from BILD actually seems to lower his head a little at the sound of those words. Good. He doesn’t pity them, they’re very much welcome to feel the pain of having done something morally wrong.

“I can only agree with those words,” the sporting director adds. “Both with the criticism of BILD, and with Kevin’s standing in the club. We’re still very happy to have signed a player of his quality, experience and character, and that’s not going to change. Discrimination and homophobia of all sorts will have serious consequences, should we – and not to mention, Kevin – ever feel that it’s a problem.”

Kevin lets out a breath of relief. He may have known in advance, but it’s something else to hear it out loud and clear in front of so many cameras and so many journalists, of which the half probably has a very bad impression of him already.

Speaking of the journalists, they’re suddenly typing and noting as if they only just remembered what it is that they’re being paid for, the sound of keyboard clicking and paper rustling filling the room.

And then the questions start coming, all at once.

“How long have you known that you’re gay?”

“Since I was a teenager. Around fifteen, sixteen.”

“Is it true that you’re in a secret relationship with another footballer?”

“No.” _Not anymore._

“Do you know any other gay players?”

“I’d rather not comment on that, because regardless whether my answer is yes or no, it’ll cause unnecessary suspicion that won’t do anyone any good.”

“Have you experienced challenges that heterosexual players probably aren’t faced with, which have made it harder for you to make it in the business?”

“Can’t say there’s been anything noteworthy related to my orientation, no. But I have to stress that I’ve never officially been out. It may change now.”

“Are there many who already knew?”

“My family, my friends, most of my old teammates at BVB and on the national team, and some of my new ones here in Stuttgart.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship with another footballer?”

“No,” he manages to lie after just a second of hesitation.

“As a professional player yourself, would it surprise you if there were _no_ other gay players? Hypothetically speaking of course, without implying that you know any already.”

He can’t help but smile at that one. Oh, if they only _knew_.

“Yes, it definitely would.”

“How does it feel to be the first active and openly gay player in the Bundesliga?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Kevin says with a shrug. “We’ve yet to see the league, the fans, the other clubs and the stadium react to the news. Ask me again when the season is over, and maybe I’ll have an answer for you then.”

The reporter nods, scribbling furiously in her notebook. Oh yes, that’s the look of a journalist sensing a big case and a large portrait interview by the end of the season.

“Are you currently single?”

A younger, rather good looking guy is asking the question, and Kevin just can’t help himself. Humour and self-irony at press conferences are, after all, much appreciated by the journalists when the situation allows it, seeing as it tends to get almost too serious, formal and impersonal at times.

“Why, you offering?” Kevin responds with the raise of an eyebrow and a mischievous grin.

The whole room bursts out laughing, some even start hooting, whistling and clapping, and the young reporter blushes all the way from his neck to his ears.

“But jokes aside,” Kevin adds as the room seems to settle down, “seeing as my girlfriend just left, I think it’s fair to say that yes, I’m indeed single.”

That tiny moment did lighten the mood insignificantly, though, and by the end of the whole press conference, Kevin’s legs are no longer shaking, his palms are no longer so sweaty, and he’s smiling openly – not because he feels that he has to, but because he can’t hide it.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , this isn’t going to turn out so badly after all.


	13. Texts II

_12:47_

**from manu:** i’m so fucking proud of you


	14. Indifference

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor additions.

Denying the rumours concerning relationships with other players doesn’t necessarily stop the press from writing and speculating. This is clearly a new and exciting situation for them, and they have to make the most out of it, or something like that.

It’s with a big grin on his face Kevin sees that Poldi has published his support on instagram, facebook and twitter just after the press conference – which, for the record, is something Poldi tends to do. Only a few hours later, however, articles on their ‘friendship’ and old photos from their time at the NT start floating around online. Poldi, however, deals with it in his own Poldi-like way: by posting the near-kiss photo of him and Bastian from the world cup with the comment, “Rumours swirling around for no reason… Spread the love instead ;)♥”. That, naturally, causes a whole other storm in social media, and the press forgets all about Kevin and his outing for a second – did Lukas secretly out himself and Bastian there? Or was that just Poldi being Poldi? Or _both_?

In the days that follow, Kevin laughs and jokes and banters with Lukas Rupp in training like ever before. The only difference is that the media now pick up on it, and that is the next absurd relationship rumour to make the rounds. “What are they even on about, it’s not like this is something new. We’ve been like this ever since you came here,” Lukas states as they sit at Kevin’s kitchen table after training; Lukas in front of Kevin’s laptop, Kevin with André in his lap, trying to feed him and simultaneously clean up the mess he’s making.

“Yeah, I don’t know, man,” Kevin says with a shrug and reaches for a cloth to wipe off André’s mouth.

They deal with it all by posting a rather funny, self-ironic picture on instagram, and that puts an end to _those_ rumours.

When an old school mate of Kevin’s comes down from Dortmund and they go for lunch at one of the cafés in Stuttgart, a two-paged special with photos and assumptions is posted the day after. Kevin just rolls his eyes, but his mate uploads a kissing picture of himself and his girlfriend the next day, just to make sure that there’s no doubt. Kevin rolls his eyes at that, too.

And so it goes. The papers jump on to it each time he’s seen being friendly with another male human being, and write and write and write into infinity about all his so-called potential partners, and at one point, Kevin realises that he just doesn’t care. He honestly doesn’t. They publish a new story seemingly every week and it’s all the same to him, because he knows the truth, the people who matter to him know the truth, and what everyone else believes is irrelevant.The tabloid press, the public and the many offensive fan letters aren’t going to bring him down – they’ve tried and failed before, and he’ll prove to them that they’ll fail again. He keeps the nicer letters and throws away the hateful and explicit ones, ignores the calls he gets thrown in his direction out on the street, and avoids the newsstands the best he can.

He’s got more than enough with being a footballer and a full-time single dad to even think in the direction of a partner anyway, let alone pay attention to brain-dead speculations and opinions which essentially don’t matter.


	15. Texts III

_17:43_

**from manu:** this is the fourth time in less than two months that the press is pairing u up with someone

 

_17:56_

**to manu:** i know

 

_17:57_

**from manu:** any truth to it?

 **to manu:** whats it to u?

 

_18:06_

**from manu:** just thought they should pay u for providing them with enough writing material to last a decade


	16. National team match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: No changes.

It’s storming in November. In Stuttgart, the rain has been pouring down for a week already, and still, there’s enough left for it to reach another peak this evening. The wind is howling, the rain is pounding on the window panes, and it looks just as bad in Munich, where the national team’s currently playing their last match of this calendar year.

Although Kevin would’ve done a lot to still be a part of that team, he’s happy that he’s not with them right now, but rather sitting with his son in his lap, watching the match all warm, dry and comfortable in front of the television. André’s got his namesake Schürrle’s jersey on, but even though the Dortmund forward is playing, the little boy only has eyes for one person: Manuel.

Who, in that dark night illuminated by flood lights, makes one magnificent save after the other. Each time it happens, an overexcited André pulls at Kevin’s jersey and points wildly at the screen – as if Kevin would miss something like that.

Before they reach halftime, the goalkeeper must be soaked to the bone from both the rain and from having flung himself in every possible direction on the wet, dirty pitch. Of the light green colour of his kit, there’s not much left; it’s covered in dirty-brown stains of mud all the way from the football boots to the shoulders of his jersey.

“That’s Manu,” Kevin explains after the referee has blown the whistle, and the screen shows a close-up of Manuel shaking hands with Benedikt on the way off the pitch. “He’s the best goalkeeper in the world.”

André just gapes up at him with big, round eyes.

Yeah, he’s probably still too young to understand that.

During the halftime, Kevin actually wants them to make the most of the break and play a little, but as soon as the replays of Manuel’s saves are shown and the experts start praising him, André’s attention is back on the TV and there’s no way of changing it. The ten months old looks more or less hypnotised by Manuel’s moves, and not even his stuffed Emma bee seems to stand a chance against the goalkeeper.

Some minutes later, there’s a close up of Manuel in real time, walking back on to the pitch while putting on his goalkeeper gloves. André’s eyes grow, if possible, even bigger and he gapes at the screen, pointing wildly and making eager noises.

“Yeah, those are his goalkeeper gloves,” Kevin chuckles and gives in, making himself comfortable on the sofa again and placing André back in his lap.

Except for a long-awaited goal from Schürrle halfway through the second half, and another few very qualified saves from Manuel, the rest of the match stays just as uneventful as the first half. It’s just another expected win in a typically boring match, in a so far perfect streak of matches – not something they’ll get much credit for, but they definitely would’ve heard it if it hadn’t been the case.

It’s not the most delightful aspect of professional football, that’s for sure, and for a second, Kevin’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with it on an international basis at the moment. Stuttgart have enough with their second season in the second Bundesliga; for the team’s sake, it’s good that they only have the league and the cup to focus on.

Shortly after the match is over, there’s yet another close-up of Manuel (are the camera men _always_ lusting after him this much?), this time being interviewed by one of the reporters. He looks drenched like a drowned cat, one half of his face is still covered in mud, and he doesn’t even seem to notice. Kevin figures that’s enough for today and is about to turn off the TV, when André suddenly starts making eager noises again and points at the screen with his tiny hands.

“Da!”

“Yeah, that’s Manu. Do you remember Manu?”

André blinks and pushes his lower lip forward in confusion, and Kevin has to stifle a laugh. God, sometimes his son just looks a little too much like himself.

“Da!” André says again.

This time, Kevin just smiles and nods, and turns up the volume to catch what the goalkeeper is saying.

Blah blah blah, tough match, low standing opponent who was allowed a little too many counter-attacks, blah blah, this, that, we gave everything we had and were rewarded in the end. Yawn.

But oh, how Kevin misses him. They haven’t seen each other in person since that night at the hotel before the press conference, only texted back and forth a little. The simple, non-committing ‘congrats on the win’, ‘congrats on your goal’, ‘good luck in the cup tonight’, ‘have fun at international break’, and an occasional ‘how was training?’.

And then there’s the last message Manuel sent shortly before this particular international break, which doesn’t fit into that pattern at all. So what if the press have a little fun and get too creative while digging into Kevin’s actually very boring and at the moment very much non-existing love life; Manuel should know that they’re nothing more than rumours.

But at least they’re in contact, regularly even, which is a lot better than nothing at all.

André isn’t paying attention the TV anymore, he’s too busy trying to reach for his Emma. It’s far too late for him to be up now anyway, but when it comes to important football matches, like BVB’s and the national team’s, Kevin always makes an exception.

“Come, André, time for bed,” he says, turning off the TV and picking up the boy, grabbing Emma in the process. André makes a pleased sound when he finally has her in his arms and starts gnawing on one of her antennas.

*

After having put the little one to bed, Kevin lies awake in his own big bed and can’t sleep. Is it still too soon to ask if they can meet up sometime? Because yes, he really wants to see Manuel again, but on the other hand, he _knows_ how hurt the goalkeeper still is, and he doesn’t exactly want to rub salt in the wound. He’s done too much of that already. That whole outing thing, that was something else, that was a crisis, and that’s hardly the case anymore.

An actual reason to meet would at least be a lot better than a simple ‘I wanna see you’, and he could, theoretically, use André as an excuse. After all, the little boy _was_ rather fascinated by Manuel’s performance in the national team jersey, so maybe he wouldn’t mind seeing Manuel in person with his own two eyes? It’s hardly likely that he remembers the goalkeeper from two months back.

Quickly, before he can change his mind, Kevin reaches for his phone, types, and presses the send button.


	17. Texts IV

_23:57_

**to manu:** congrats on the win! just watched the match and now andré really wants to see u. u free sometime in the next few days?


	18. Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

The next day, with the baby bag flung over his shoulder and André in his arms, Kevin rings Manuel’s doorbell. The little boy has been asleep the whole drive through from Stuttgart to Munich, but now he’s awake, trying to rub sleep out of his eyes with his tiny, glove-covered hands. Kevin sends him a brief, warm smile and wonders whether he’ll recognise Manuel. Probably not.

Kevin himself has been nervous, even when he sat in the car only two minutes ago, but it’s gone now. He’s here as a mate, not as an ex boyfriend. If he can’t imagine a life without Manuel, he’ll just have to suck it up and put up with the fact that they can’t be more than friends. They’ve never been any good together in a relationship anyway, so maybe this is the best for them both.

“Christ, this weather,” Manuel comments after he’s opened the door and let them in.

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“Just as bad in Stuttgart?”

“If not worse. Gonna be a nice drive back home…”

“Sorry. I’d pick a day when the weather is better, but the next weeks will be really busy. You know how it is…”

“Yeah, no worries. Same goes for me, there are some very busy days to come.”

Manuel’s eyes then wander to the little boy in Kevin’s arms, who’s currently clinging to his dad’s shoulder and eyeing the new face with scepticism.

“Hey, you,” Manuel says in a soft tone, voice sounding a little more high-pitched than usual. Oh, the effect small children and cute animals can have on people, even grown men. “How are you?”

André stares and starts gnawing on his lip, holding a little tighter on to Kevin’s shoulder.

“This is Manuel,” Kevin says to his boy, encouragement in his voice. “You know him, right?”

André looks up at him with wide eyes, blinking.

“He’s rather shy,” Kevin starts to explain. “Probably got that from me.”

“That’s okay,” Manuel smiles. “I know I was like that, too.”

Kevin sends him a thankful smile in return, then he suddenly remembers something. “Hey, you don’t happen to have a pair of spare goalkeeper gloves within your reach, do you?”

“I’m a goalkeeper, Kevin, what do you thi-”

“Great, go get them. He might recognise you with them on.”

Manuel sends him a weird look, but at least he disappears to go fetch a pair. In the meantime, Kevin kicks off his shoes, places the baby bag on the floor and starts getting André out of his shoes and snowsuit. André giggles as Kevin puts on an extra pair of woollen socks, just in case.

“You can’t seriously believe that this is going to work,” Manuel says as he comes back, already in the middle of putting the goalkeeper gloves on.

But Kevin, still crouching down to fix André’s clothing, doesn’t even get the chance to reply before the little boy is staring in awe up at the tall goalkeeper, eyes focused exclusively on the gloves. He looks back and forth between them a few times, then he starts gesturing wildly at the foreign object.

“Daa!”

“Yes, the goalkeeper gloves. Do you recognise them?”

André continues gesturing, and Kevin gathers him in his arms and gets to his feet. André reaches out, trying to touch the big gloves.

“Wanna hold him?” Kevin asks Manuel.

“Sure.”

André doesn’t even protest; he’s more than happy with finally being able to touch the gloves, which up close look like they’re half his size. A happy giggle escapes his mouth, and he beams up at Manuel, before turning his attention back to the fascinating gloves.

“André, isn’t it?” Manuel asks, stifling a laugh as the boy starts gnawing on one of the fingers.

“Yeah.”

“He’s grown a lot bigger since the last time I saw him. How old is he now?”

“A little over ten months. Ten and a half, something like that.”

“When was he born again?”

“2nd of January.”

“Wow, almost a little New Year’s baby,” Manuel says with a big smile directed at André and rocks him in his arms. André, however, still only has eyes for the goalkeeper gloves, and Manuel laughs. “Planning on making a goalie out of him?”

“What? – Oh, God no.” Kevin shudders at the thought. “And you better not put such wicked ideas in his head either,” he adds, his tone serious.

“Can’t promise anything.”

“God, you’re just as awful as ever.”

But he’s smiling, and so is Manuel, even though it’s just a tiny, weak one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little story about the birthday date for those who don’t already know:  
> On the 30th of June 2016, when I was still figuring out the basics of this ‘verse, I wrote this to Khalehla: “Without knowing for sure, I guess André’s born in early January.” This was based on the calculations I was able to make without possessing any inside information. On the 4th of July, I sent her a document with my timeline, in which André’s birthday was listed as the 2nd of January. And then, two months later, on the 6th of September, Kevin revealed in an interview that the scheduled date was that exact date – the 2nd of January.  
> Guess who was suddenly freaked out by his own brain…


	19. Visit pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor changes/rewrites.

“Here,” Manuel says as he comes back from the kitchen, a mug of coffee in one hand, a bottle of Apfelschorle in the other, and Kevin looks up from where he’s kneeling on the floor next to André. The little boy’scurrently all engrossed in the big goalkeeper gloves; even his favourite toys – the stuffed Emma and his tiny, soft football – are lying disregarded on the carpet. Kevin accepts the bottle with a soft ‘thanks’, and gets up to make himself comfortable on the sofa next to Manuel.

“I see you’ve started early,” the goalkeeper remarks, and nods towards the toys next to André.

“They were gifts from Mum and Dad when he was born.” Kevin smiles at the fond memory. “So far, he prefers Emma.”

“Can’t blame him, she’s much cuter than the ball.”

“Yeah…”

“So how have you been?”

“Good. Yourself?” Kevin replies effortlessly and takes a sip of his bottle.

Manuel dismisses it with a gesture and a roll of his eyes. “We’re not talking about me right now, and you know what I mean. How are you holding up? The press cutting you some slack? Heard anything from Caro yet?”

“Jeez, _you_ need to cut me some slack!” Kevin bursts out with a laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s better than I imagined it would be. I pictured quite a lot of hate, especially considering my history of bad behaviour and bad press, but so far, there’s been rather little of that. As in, it could’ve been worse. I’ve experienced worse, even. And Caro… I guess she still needs her time, which I can’t really blame her for. She’ll have to get in touch eventually, though, because we still have to sort out the whole custody business.” Kevin pauses for a moment, clearing his throat. “The press can write whatever they like, though, I’ve stopped caring.”

“Really?” The raise of an eyebrow suggests that Manuel doesn’t quite believe that.

“Yeah, like you texted, they’ve been pairing me up with _everyone_ lately. I doubt anyone’s taking it seriously anymore.”

“Yeah, but–”

“Just chill, Manu, _please_.”

“Fine. The press is not a problem, I get it. What about the football?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw a report on your match against Karlsruhe.”

Oh. That match.

Against the other clubs, homophobic insults from the stands hadn’t been much of an issue, but the derby against Karlsruhe had been one of a kind. Posters, banners and chants, whistling every time he was near the ball… It had hit harder than expected, and the coach even asked him during halftime if he wanted to be subbed off, but no, he didn’t. It had taken its toll, though, playing ninety minutes straight under such circumstances.

“Yeah, that was rather unpleasant,” Kevin says, but he doesn’t feel like revealing too much of his emotional life at this point, so he adds with a shrug, “But it was _one_ match, and it was a derby. You know how it is, there are other rules then. Anything to weaken the opponent and all that. And the fans were punished accordingly for it.”

“Still though. It gave me the worst kind of goosebumps, and I was only watching a brief excerpt in a TV report. Even in those short glimpses they hadn’t been able to edit away the chants.”

“Looked worse than it really was, I guess.”

A rather awkward silence follows, and Kevin starts toying with the bottle in his hands, peeling off parts of the label, looking anywhere but at Manuel. From what he can see out of the corner of his eye, however, Manuel seems to be fiddling with his mug as well.

“So, any news from the national team these days?” Kevin asks after a while, relieved to have thought of a topic that won’t lead them on to a path they shouldn’t head down at this point, if ever. “Any new hook-ups, break-ups, prank wars?”

Manuel takes a sip of his coffee as he considers the question, and suddenly he lightens up, almost spilling the hot liquid in sudden eagerness. “Oh my God, _yes_ ,” he bursts out as he wipes off his chin with the back of his hand. “Damn, you are not going to _believe_ who the new _power couple_ is.”

“Who?” Kevin urges, not failing to pick up on the ironic intonation, and turns his full attention to Manuel.

“Oh man, this…”

“Come on, spill!”

Manuel looks him straight in the eye and clearly has to concentrate in order not to laugh. “Marc and Bernd.”

Kevin’s eyes widen in shock and disbelief. “ _No_.”

“Yes.”

“No, you’re having me on. You’ve been smoking something nasty.”

“Not at all,” Manuel says, leaning back against the sofa with a self-confident, pleased grin.

“But _Marc_ and _Bernd_? Why would _they_ –? No way. I mean, _no way._ ”

“Oh, _yes_ way.”

 _“_ How do you even _know_ , though? With all due respect, I highly doubt they would talk to anyone about it, you included.”

Manuel shrugs. “I just have an inkling. Something about the way they behave around each other? I mean, they’re still acting just as cold and dismissive towards each other as always, so that’s not it, it has just _changed_ somehow. Looks, body language, a different kind of tension… You know? It’s just not the same as before. There’s definitely something going on there, I’m sure.”

Wow. Who would’ve thought. Kevin still isn’t convinced, but it’s not impossible – the younger goalies wouldn’t exactly be the first ones to hook up with a so-called enemy. And if there’s one person on that team who knows what he’s talking about, it’s Manuel.

“Shit, you need to _warn_ them, those poor boys,” he says eventually.

“Why?”

“ _Why_? You’re team captain. You have experience. You have a _responsibility_.”

“True, but if they’ve come this far, there really isn’t much I can do about it. They have to work it out on their own.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.” Kevin leans back on the sofa as well and stares into nothing for a second. “Still the dumbest thing I’ve heard, though.”

“Dumber than the rumour that Schalke wanted Schweini?”

That makes Kevin stop and consider for a second. “No, you know what, actually not. _That_ was dumber. As if Schalke would ever manage to get a hold of Basti, Basti knows far better than to go _there_.”

Manuel just shakes his head, albeit with a faint smile on his face. “Oh, Kevin, you’re never gonna change, are you?”

“No,” Kevin grins back. “You should know.”

From then on, the evening passes by relatively smoothly. André’s caught up in his own imaginary world, and they can joke, reminisce and exchange stories in peace. Kevin does feel himself holding back, not wanting to overwhelm Manuel completely on the first day of normal contact since the break-up, but as the insecurity and awkward silence from earlier begin to wear off, he loosens up and relaxes, lowering the shoulders he hadn’t noticed he’d raised in apprehension.

Maybe they will manage to stay friends after all.

Suddenly, a loud, long-drawn-out thunder followed by a row of lightnings interrupt Manuel in the middle of a sentence, startling André who’s still playing peacefully on the carpet.

“Dada,” the little boy whimpers, already on the verge of crying, and Kevin hurries over. Carefully, he picks the boy up and cradles him to his chest. André whimpers again and clings to Kevin the best he can.

“Don’t worry, André, it’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“‘Ma!”

“You want Emma? Sure.” He bends down to pick her up and hands her to André, who reaches for her foot and curls his tiny hand around it in a tight grip.

Beside him, Manuel gets to his feet as well and starts pulling out all the plugs in the room.

“I hope you don’t mind? I know the neighbourhood’s had trouble with power outages these past days, so I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“Sure, no problem. I did the same at home before we left.” Kevin throws André a look, and sees the fear and worry in his clear blue eyes. “You don’t happen to have any candles, though? André’s not much of a fan of storms…”

Manuel nods. “On it.”

When they fling themselves down on the sofa a few minutes later, the crackling from the fireplace and the candles on the coffee table are making up for the lack of electric lighting, and André seems a lot happier now that he can sit well protected between them, wrapped up in a blanket with Emma in one arm and a bottle of lukewarm milk in the other.

“Do you have training tomorrow?” Manuel asks then.

“Not until the afternoon. Why?”

“I was just thinking… Thanks to the international duty, I’m starting late tomorrow as well. You could just stay here for the night, if you want.”

“What? No, we couldn’t possibly–”

“Sure you can! There’s plenty of space, and I always keep the guest room made up and ready in case of emergencies. Two hours on the road this late, in this weather, can’t be good for André. Much better to just stay here and drive back tomorrow.”

Good point. And there’s always enough stuff in the baby bag for two days anyway. Kevin figured out pretty fast that it was best to be prepared for anything at any time; babies could be very unpredictable.

“But what about you? You sure you don’t mind having us here?”

“Of course not. You know I wouldn’t make such a suggestion if I wasn’t sure.” The smile Manuel sends him leaves no room for doubt.

“Still, it’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

“No worries. Besides, who knows when I’ll have the opportunity to see this little bee again.” To emphasise his words, Manuel reaches out and pats André on the head. André beams up at the goalkeeper and Kevin can’t hold back a smile of his own.

“What do you say, André? Want to stay here for the night?”

André looks at him with his round, blue eyes, and starts gnawing on Emma’s antenna.


	20. Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

When Manuel wakes up the next morning, it’s to the sound of the radio and the smell of something being fried in a pan instead of burned. Confused at first, he sits up in bed, drags a hand across his face, and then it all comes back to him. Kevin, André, the evening before. He throws the digital watch on the bedside table a quick look – apparently being a dad has turned Kevin into a real morning person, seeing as it’s not half past seven yet. It’s still dark out, even.

He rubs his face a few more times, lies back down and eyes the watch suspiciously. No, it’s definitely too early for Kevin to be up.

Particularly considering that he didn’t even get to sleep through the night in peace. The storm woke André up after a few hours, and the poor boy kept crying for several minutes while Kevin did what he could to calm him down. Manuel was still awake at that point, and eventually he took pity on Kevin and went to check on them.

Carefully, he had knocked on the door, opened it and seen Kevin standing there, exhausted, wearing nothing but his boxers – damn him for never sleeping in a t-shirt – and cradling the baby to his chest, rocking him, singing for him, without much luck.

“Oh, Manu, I’m really, really sorry about this, I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep, but the storm, and André, and–”

“Just calm down, Kevin, you don’t have to explain. Need any help?”

The look on Kevin’s face had told him that he wanted to decline, but the exhaustion had spoken the word for him.

“… yeah.”

With that, he had let Manuel take André from his arms, more or less fallen back on the bed, and crawled under the duvet. Good thing he already had some experience, Manuel had thought, then tightened his protective hold on André and started humming the melody of his favourite Schalke song, the one he’s used a few times already.

By the time he was done, both Kevin and André were fast asleep, and he could tuck the baby in and sneak quietly back to his own room.

Unlike the two in his guest room, sleep hadn’t found him until long after that.

For a few more minutes, Manuel just stays under the duvet, appreciating the warmth, listening to the sounds coming from the kitchen, before he finally manages to convince his body to drag him out of the bed. Still dressed in pyjama trousers and a loose t-shirt, he makes a quick stop to the bathroom before heading towards the kitchen, stopping just around the corner to watch.

With André on his arm and a spatula in his free hand, Kevin’s humming along to the song playing on the radio and making something that smells suspiciously like fried eggs.

“Wanna taste?” he asks his boy. André reaches out with his little hands, receives a little bite to munch on, and Kevin presses a kiss to his temple. André giggles at that and is rewarded with a few more.

Manuel leans his whole body weight against the wall and sighs heavily. The familial atmosphere stings in his chest. How easy it could’ve been, him, Kevin, all three of them, living like this as a happy family, André growing up with two parents rather than just one, and they’d do their best to give him a real home, one he could and would want to return to any time, where he would feel safe and protected, and be welcomed with two pairs of open arms.

An image flashes before his eyes: the same situation, the same room, the same setting, but in which he can and does walk over, presses a kiss to Kevin’s soft, warm, well-known lips and takes André from his arms to give him a big cuddle. Can picture all too well how André would hug back with his little hands and arms and happily giggle something in baby-tongue. How they would both look at him with love in their eyes, not scepticism and insecurity.

But André is not his boy, and Kevin is not his boyfriend.

He sighs again, straightens up, pulls himself together, and shuffles into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he says, voice still thick and rough with sleep.

Kevin turns in his direction with a careful smile. “Hey. You hungry?”

“Yeah. What are you making?”

“Omelettes. And no, before you ask, I don’t burn them anymore.”

“I can smell that.” Manuel sends him a small smile in return and sits down at the table, while Kevin starts making a plate ready. At least until he realises that that’s a little tricky with only one hand free.

“Hey, could you just hold André for a sec?”

“Sure.”

And then there’s a baby in his lap, staring up at him with big, bright eyes, and Manuel prays that he isn’t too freaked out and will start crying any second now. Somehow there’s a difference between interacting with André when he’s awake and happy, and when he’s crying and can’t sleep. He finds the latter much easier, actually, because his voice seems to have a soothing effect on the baby when he’s tired and upset. Keeping him happy is something else entirely.

Luckily, Kevin’s there this time to take André away again before he has the time to get upset by the fact that he’s put in the lap of an almost complete stranger. Instead, there’s a plate of omelette and toasted bread and a big mug of freshly brewed coffee on the table in front of Manuel, and he can’t help but feel a little out of place in his own kitchen. That’s still the Kevin he knows sitting down across from him at the same table, but at the same time not – up early, multitasking, making breakfast that involves more than just putting bread and butter on the table… It’s a new side of him completely.

“Not hungry after all?” Kevin asks softly, looking up from where he’s currently trying to balance André in his lap, feed him, and simultaneously eat his own breakfast.

“Oh, I am, I just…” Manuel reaches for his fork and knife to win time. “It’s weird seeing you like this. Not bad weird, but unusual.”

“You’re not the first one to point it out,” Kevin says with his eyes fixed on André. “Mum says the same all the time. Dad, too, sometimes.”

“And they should know.”

“Oh, definitely. If there’s someone out there who knows, it’s them. And you.”

Kevin then reaches for a cloth to wipe off André’s cheek, and Manuel decides not to dig further into something he shouldn’t, but rather taste the omelette. It’s good, better than expected, even, and is it just him, or does Kevin blush when he tells him so?

“By the way,” Kevin says when they’re halfway through breakfast. “I couldn’t find my mug, the BVB one, you know. Do you know where it is?”

Oh. Shit.

“I, uh… Don’t have it.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have it?”

“I broke it.”

“Hey, you know I don’t appreciate you using it,” Kevin says, his tone playful.

“No, I… Broke it because I wanted to.”

There’s an awkward silence as Kevin pauses, realisation dawning on him, and even André seems to sense that something’s not quite right.

“Oh.”

Yes. _Oh._

“Manu, I’m really sorry–”

“Yeah, me too.”

They look up at the same time and their gazes meet, two sets of eyes filled with pain and regret, and Manuel needs to look away immediately. He can’t stand this kind of tension between them, it hurts too much. Still, even after one and a half years.

“Look, if you want us to leave…”

“You don’t have to.”

“I shouldn’t come here with him and rub it in when you’re still hurting.”

“I’m not.”

Their eyes meet again and fuck, Kevin’s going to know that he’s lying now. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, forcing himself to stay calm. Don’t show any signs of weakness.

The radio saves him. When the air is about to get too thick with the thing neither of them want nor can talk about, a familiar melody comes on, reminding them both instantly of one particular and very special night for them, twenty-one of their teammates, and the whole country.

_Wer friert uns diesen Moment ein, besser kann es nicht sein,_ Andreas Bourani sings, and Manuel has to admit that to him, even though it’s not quite his taste of music, that song will forever work as a synonym for the night of the world cup final, and it’s a memory that will always make him smile, regardless of his mood.

When his eyes meet Kevin’s this time, just when the refrain of _Auf Uns_ comes, there are no hurt feelings mirrored in them anymore. He can almost feel that they’re thinking of the same moment – the one where they ran across the pitch with the flag waving between them. The single happiest moment of their relationship ever, probably. Not because there haven’t been many, but because their happiness reached a peak they didn’t know was possible that evening, and they were able to experience it all together.

“I want to stay friends, Kevin,” Manuel says when the refrain ends, his eyes fixed on his ex. “I really do.”

“We’ve never really been friends, though.”

True.

“Maybe it’s time we tried, then, since everything else has failed.” Manuel pauses, trying to think of a good way to address the thing they shouldn’t. “And it’ll probably be easier if we don’t talk too much about what has and what could’ve been.”

Kevin frowns. “As in never? Because that sounds like a recipe for disaster, if you ask me. We should’ve learned by now that communication is a key.”

“Okay, fine, when it doesn’t feel so close anymore, we can. How does that sound?”

Not that he knows when that time’s going to come. Maybe it won’t come at all.

Luckily, Kevin doesn’t ask. “Sounds like an idea,” he sort of agrees, then André demands his attention, and they both go back to eating their breakfast.

*

“You’re good with him,” Manuel says later, when they’ve finished off their plates and are just sipping the last of their coffees, Kevin still with André in his lap.

“So far. We’ll see how much I’ll fuck up in the future.”

“You’re not going to fuck up, Kevin.”

“Oh, I am. I’m alone with a kid with no family and few close friends nearby, of course I’m going to fuck up. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about being a parent, it’s that you are going to make mistakes, no matter how hard you try not to. The question is only how many, and how severe.”

“If you ever need any help, all you have to do is call,” Manuel says, rather spontaneously, but when he hears the words out loud, they don’t scare him as much as he’d expect them to.

“Manu, no, you don’t have to do that…”

“No, I know.”

He can see the wheels turning in Kevin’s head, and is quick to add, before Kevin can protest, “Listen, I said I want to stay friends, right? And I know I can’t promise anything, but if I cannot not have you in my life, if this is how we’ll have to do it… So be it. So don’t say anything, please. Just… keep my number in case of emergencies.”

Kevin nods a little awkwardly, but at least it’s a nod, and not a protest.

And then, before the whole situation can get too awkward again, André smacks a sticky, greasy hand in his dad’s face with a loud and happy giggle, and Manuel can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Look at this mess,” Kevin grins and reaches for the cloth again to wipe off his cheek and André’s hand. “Are you sure you know what you’ve just let yourself in on?”

Manuel grins back and reaches out to pat André on the head. “I’ll find out soon enough, won’t I?”

As if on cue, André reaches out and grabs one of his fingers – with his other hand, the one Kevin hasn’t had time to wipe off yet.

It’s a good thing he’s grown so attached to the little kid already, Manuel thinks as he wriggles his finger out of the tight grip, and accepts the cloth Kevin’s handing him.


	21. Texts V

_18:54_

**from kevin:** hey sorry but i just found out andré stole one of ur gloves do u want it back or

 

_19:02_

**to kevin:** LOL

**to kevin:** nah it's fine he can just keep it

**to kevin:** i have plenty


	22. Texts VI

_06:07_

**from kevin:** lsmfoqngowapgnvmls

**from kevin:** asfgnaogbea sn sso2

 

_06:08_

**from kevin:** 39janvgslfkgsa

**from kevin:** asjhfjjjhA!($/")35(%!82/ &

**from kevin:** !)$9(=2?!4)$(_;^*KAnfdaknvek

**from kevin:** ansaivnie9452904+lj

 

_06:09_

**from kevin:** *dark blurry picture of nothing*

 

_06:11_

**to kevin:** the fuck r u texting me bullshit at this ungodly hour for

 

_06:14_

**from kevin:** shit sorry the kid stole my phone


	23. Texts VII

_19:12_

**from kevin:** xbvsihwrfwgb

**from kevin:** katawigbvna

 

_19:13_

**to kevin:** hey andré

**from kevin:** fjnkghuewghanvk

**from kevin:** *blurry picture of a giggling andré*


	24. Kati

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

It’s been a long and hard day at training, and Kevin had what felt like thousand things to do in addition, and now that he just made it inside his flat with his sports bag, four bags of groceries, a soaking wet umbrella and a big pile of bills and what’s likely to be offending and explicit fan mail, he just remembered that he forgot to buy nappies.

_Oh, for fuck’s sake._

The last thing he wants is to go out again in the cold and the dark and the rain; now, he just wants to stay inside and chill on the sofa with his son for the rest of the evening. Besides, Kati has already babysat said son for almost half an hour longer than scheduled, so he’ll either have to stress back for nappies immediately, or he has to bring André _with him_ , which is only going to mean even more stress. And after this day, he honestly doesn’t feel like seeing any more people.

With a heavy sigh, he lets everything in his hands drop to the floor, sports bag and keys and groceries and everything, shrugs off his jacket and bends down to untie the shoelaces on his soaked trainers.

“Hey,” a gentle female voice says, and he looks up.

“Hi, Kati. Sorry I’m late, but there was just so much…”

She dismisses it with a wave of her hand. “Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I do live just down the road.”

“Still though, thanks. How did it go today?”

“Great. We’ve played all day, and then I saw that you were almost out of nappies, so we went for a little trip down to the store. André was very well-behaved, and he loved it.”

Oh God, what a girl she is. Kevin feels like ten kilos have been lifted off his shoulders and seven years have been subtracted from his age, just because he doesn’t have to think about leaving the flat again for the rest of the day.

“And afterwards,” Kati continues, “we came home, ate a little and played some more.”

“And now?”

“He fell asleep in his room about half an hour ago, so it’ll probably be a while before he awakens again.”

“God, Kati, you’re the best,” he bursts out, and sends her a tired, but grateful smile. She smiles back.

“He did try to steal my phone, though. Several times, even.”

Kevin groans. “Yeah, that’s a new habit of his. Always does it with my phone too and ends up texting the last person I texted.”

Kati stifles a giggle. “Really?”

“Yeah. So you better watch out.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” A pause. “And how was your day? It seems like it’s been a rough one?”

“Naah, it’s just the usual,” he assures her. “A lot to do, a lot to take care of, public training…”

 _Public training_. One of the things he used to love so much, but which is hard to see in an exclusively positive light anymore. The first weeks after the outing people had been overwhelmingly supportive, with fans from all over the country coming just for him, but gradually, as the media’s ecstatic coverage has started to die down, the general attention has increased. And with that, the negative voices in particular, especially after a few bad matches.

It’s always hard to know what the public trainings will be like now – full throttle from the press; ignorance combined with these very peculiar looks from the fans; whistles and name-calling; or just general discomfort. Today, it was a combination of everything from the very beginning, which again made the training harder, which again just made the whistles from the fans worse. Not all of them took part in it, of course, but the negative voices are, strangely enough, always loud and clear enough to outdo the rest.

It’s not like the club doesn’t try to do anything; there’s just not that much that can be done, and they all know it.

“But I won’t bother you with all the details,” Kevin says, when he sees that Kati’s clearly waiting for him to keep going. “You’ve been here way too long already.”

Kati sighs and gestures towards the living room.

“Are you coming in? Because I have something I need to tell you.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure.”

“I just want to point out that there’s nothing wrong,” she assures him when they’ve sat down on the sofa. “But I want to let you know early on.”

“Shoot.”

“I’ve finally received an offer for a traineeship.”

“But that’s great,” Kevin tells her; he knows how long she’s been searching for one.

“Yeah. But it also means that I won’t be able to babysit André anymore.”

“Oh. No, sure, of course not. When do you start?”

“After Christmas?”

 _Phew._ Kevin sends her a reassuring smile. “That’s not going to be a problem at all. André will stay with my parents in January while I’m at training camp with the team. In February, he starts kindergarten. Don’t sweat it, we’ll be fine after Christmas too.”

“But what about the weekends? And all the away games?”

“I’ll just have to manage somehow, I guess,” Kevin replies with a shrug. “Take him with me, make sure that my parents or a friend can take care of him when I have to play. Maybe they’ll even let me have him on the bench if I can’t find anyone…”

“Kevin, I’m really sorry…”

“No, no reason to be. You’ve been of great help and I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.” Even if that means bringing André to the away games and teaming up with his parents more than they’ll probably be okay with.

When Kati leaves, he hands her some extra cash for doing the shopping for him and staying longer than planned. She thanks him once, twice, then asks again if he’s going to be fine on his own, and he assures her again that she doesn’t have to worry.

There’s still one more option to be considered though, Kevin thinks sadly as he enters André’s nursery, and sees his little boy sleeping so peacefully in his crib. One he doesn’t really want to think of as an option, and which he would be far from happy with, even though it would make their lives so much easier.

He could offer Caro the full custody. Maybe it would be for the best if she got André after all.


	25. Texts VIII

_18:26_

**from manu:** i saw some “fans” have been awful again. u ok?

 

_18:29_

**to manu:** yeah fine

**from manu:** and the unofficial version?

 

_18:39_

**to manu:** i’m looking forward to go home for christmas so i won't have to deal with them in a while


	26. Texts IX

_21:22_

**to manu:** congratulations, herbstmeister!

 

_21:33_

**from manu:** thanks the same ;)


	27. Winterpause

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend not to mention this because I don’t know if this is something readers are interested in, but if anyone wants to talk about Neukreutz or Steno or this fandom in general, do hit me up on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/tyskerunge)!
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

The day after the Winterpause has started, Kevin takes André with him and drives back home to Dortmund. André actually sleeps through most of the drive, only waking up twice; once because he’s hungry, and a few hours later because his nappy needs a change. He doesn’t have the best sleeping heart, so Kevin praises himself lucky that it goes so well this time.

He’s met with open arms and dinner on the table, and Pia insists on taking care of André for the rest of the evening, telling him that she doesn’t “get to play grandma _that_ often”. As much as Kevin loves his boy, he certainly doesn’t say no to an opportunity to unwind when he can. Lenny’s overexcited about having his big brother back too, and since Kevin doesn’t have to be a dad all night, he promises that they’ll make themselves comfortable in front of the TV after dinner and play playstation for the rest of the evening.

*

“Hey, Kevin?” Pia asks later, after Lenny’s gone to bed and Kevin’s finally been allowed to put André to bed, too. They’re sitting in his part of the house, enjoying a last cup of tea before they have to head to bed themselves.

“Yeah?”

“Just something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but haven’t found a suitable moment…”

“Shoot.”

“You and Manuel, are you back in touch again?”

Trying to keep his voice as calm and neutral as possible, Kevin follows up with, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. I’m just wondering, considering what you’ve had to deal with this season. Has he been in touch?”

Kevin shrugs. “We text sometimes. And he’s met André on a few occasions.”

“Yeah?” Pia sounds very positively astounded all of a sudden and Kevin feels bad immediately; he doesn’t want her to get her hopes up. Just because Manuel’s met André, it doesn’t mean that they’re on their way back together or anything.

“Yeah, but Mum, please don’t get your hopes up. It’s just some friendly contact, that’s all there is to it, nothing more.”

He can see that it disappoints her, even though she doesn’t react much.

“And you’re okay with just friendly contact?” she asks instead.

“Sure. I get to have him in my life, that’s more than I could’ve hoped for only a few months back. We’ve never been good at this whole relationship thing anyway, and we’ve never actually been friends, so trying can’t hurt.”

“And you’re sure it can’t become something more again…?”

“Yeah,” Kevin sighs and runs a hand over his short hair. “I’m lucky that he wants to be in contact with me in the first place. I don’t want to push it.”

Pia doesn’t reply, just continues to watch him closely.

“Hey, stop looking at me like that. You know we’re over. I know you’re not overexcited about it, because neither am I, but it won’t do you any good to walk around and hope for a miracle.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s probably just the holiday that’s making me silly…” Pia shrugs, smiling this ‘I’m just a silly mum’ smile of hers, and takes a sip of her tea. The expression doesn’t leave her face, though, even though she clearly uses the cup in an attempt to hide it.

Kevin frowns. He knows that look.

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“No, what would that be? Anyway, I better head back, I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“Mum…”

Pia was about to get up from her chair, but the tone in his voice makes her sit back down.

“Oh, Kevin,” she sighs then. “You just never know, right? You thought you’d never be in touch again, and it’s not even been two years, and look how far you’ve come already.”

“Some sporadic contact and a few superficial texts once in a while isn’t what I’d call _far_ , exactly.”

“But it’s a start.”

“Of a _friendship_ , if we’re lucky.”

Pia raises an eyebrow.

“Mum, please. I really hurt him this time. Really, _really_ hurt him. He’s never going to get over that, and even if he did, it doesn’t mean that he’ll want me back. Besides, I’ve got André to think of, and I don’t want to bring a new person in to his life unless I can be sure that they’ll stay.”

Pia chuckles. “Oh, but didn’t you just say that Manu’s met André on a few occasions already…?”

For a second or two there, Kevin’s at a loss of words, gaping at his mum for throwing his own words right back at him. “Yeah, but… that’s not like _that_. That’s different, that’s something else.” When Pia raises her eyebrow again, he continues, “C’mon, Mum, stop teasing already. I know that you know what I mean.”

Pia purses her lips for a brief second. “I just don’t want you to stand in the way of your own happiness. Yes, as a parent I know that you’ll always put your child first, but if there’s a chance…”

“I’m sorry, Mum, but there’s not.” He sighs heavily, puts his heads in his hands and repeats the last two words in a hushed, resigned whisper, “There’s not.”


	28. Christmas Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

Like always on Christmas Eve, they’re celebrating alone, just the four of them. There have been only two exceptions: one year Manuel joined them, and last year it was Caro, with her then still large, rounded belly, just about a week before André was born.

This year is their third exception.

They’re finally done opening all the presents, Lenny has gone off to build the packages of Lego he got from his uncles and aunts, and André’s about to doze off in Kevin’s arms.

It’s kind of weird sitting there on the sofa with the baby curled up to him – a year ago, he wasn’t even born yet, and now, even though he’s still little, he’s already grown out of most of his clothes. Very annoying, that. Kevin has a feeling that it was only a few weeks ago that he last had to put away clothes that had become too small. He’s grateful that he’s home at his parents’ and can go through all of his and Lenny’s old baby clothes, so that he won’t have to go baby clothes shopping anytime soon.

André whimpers and stretches his small arms, and Kevin tightens his hold on him, breathes in his baby scent and presses a kiss to his temple. At least he still has the boy with him, and he’s going to do his best to make the most out of every minute. Who knows what will come out of the whole custody discussion, when he and Caro finally get to it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see his parents exchanging a look.

“Hey, Kevin?” his dad says then, and Kevin looks up, just in time to see the smirks his parents send each other.

“Yes?”

“There’s still one present left.”

Kevin frowns at them, but then his mum reaches behind her chair and hands him one – a rectangular box wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper with a large, silver bow on it. _To André_ it says on the label, nothing more. Kevin swallows. If he didn’t know better, he’d say he knows that handwriting.

“There’s no name on it.”

“No.”

“Do you know who it’s from?”

His parents exchange another look.

“Just open it,” his dad encourages him instead.

The sound of tearing wrapping paper makes André open his eyes and pay attention. Eagerly, he joins in, reaching for a strip and pulling roughly at it. Kevin sends him a fond smile and lets him have the rest, only helping him with the last bit.

Inside, there’s a plain and simple brown box. No decorations, nothing. Kevin throws his parents a look, but they both just nod towards the box.

Glancing down at André to make sure that he’s paying attention as well, Kevin opens the lid, and there…

On top of what looks like soft fabric in grey and yellow, there’s a note.

_I know he’s about to grow out of the one he has already. –_ _MN_

For a long moment, Kevin just sits there, staring silently down at the present and the note, recognising the handwriting for sure this time, and really, how many people does he know with the initials MN?

“But–? How–?” he stutters, looking back and forth between his mum and dad.

Pia sends him a warm smile. “He called me a couple of weeks ago, asked me if I could do him a favour. Told me exactly what to get and in which size. He’d do it himself, he said, but you know how it is.”

“Yeah…” Kevin pauses, frowns, then, “So _that’s_ why you were so secretive the other day.”

His mum just shrugs, but the twinkle in her eyes gives her away.

Oh, mothers. You never really knew with them, honestly.

A weak smile spreads across his lips as he takes up the note, studies it a little closer, confirming that _yes_ , that’s indeed Manuel’s handwriting, before turning his attention to the present – a brand new Emma pyjamas for André.

Now that he can see the image of his favourite bee, André lights up and reaches out to touch her.

“Ma!” he squeals in delight, and continues to slap his palm against the print. Kevin can’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.

“Manu got you a new pyjamas, shall we go put it on?”

“Maa!” André says again, beaming up at his dad.

Kevin smiles back, then turns to his parents, giving them both a long look.

“Thank you so much.”

“Oh, we’re not the ones you should be thanking,” his dad corrects him.

“No, I know, but I meant… If you could greet him from me, tell him–”

His mum silences him with a gesture. “Do it yourself, Kevin. I’m sure he’d love to hear it from you.”

Kevin sends them another smile and gets up, both André and the present still in his arms. “We’ll be right back,” he says, and heads for the bathroom.

André doesn’t make a fuss like he sometimes does, probably more than happy to get out of his finer clothing and into something a lot more comfortable, and he sends his dad a big, happy smile when he’s finally got the Emma pyjamas on. It’s a little too big for him now, but it’s perfect for him to grow in.

This is so much more than just a Christmas present, Kevin thinks as he fishes out his phone to take a photo, feeling warmth spread in his chest and his heart start beating a little faster; it’s a sign of acceptance, of affection, of care, and another step in the direction of a friendship.

It dawns on him then that Manuel seems to be the only one taking the steps, and he just follows along, a little hesitant, even. Maybe he should do more. No, not maybe, he _should_ do more. To call Manuel now and thank him for the present would be one such thing, but…

But then there’s the fear of going too far, of crossing a hidden line which Manuel isn’t ready for to be crossed yet, like with everything else Kevin really wants to do but isn’t sure if he should. If today had been any other normal, boring day, he might have worked up the courage to risk it, but on Christmas Eve of all days, a day which is so easily ruined… Goddamn it. And he cannot _not_ respond either, that would just be rude.

“Dada!” André suddenly interrupts his pondering, and stretches out his arms.

“What do you think, André?” he asks his boy; André responds by trying to reach for his phone. “Oh no, you little rascal, you know you’re not allowed to have that. You’re much too young to be texting.”

Speaking of, though. A text isn’t much of a response either, perhaps, but it’s better than nothing and he won’t risk crossing any lines.

_He loves it. Thank you so, so much. I can call you sometime later, if you want_ , he types quickly, attaches the photo he just took, and presses the send button before he can change his mind.

“C’mon, let’s go show Oma and Opa your new pyjamas, shall we?” he says as he slips the phone back into his pocket, and picks up André.

His son throws his arms around his neck and giggles happily against his throat.


	29. Christmas Eve pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor additions/rewrites.

They’re just about to open the presents when Manuel receives a text. He’s been anxiously waiting for a reaction from a certain someone all evening, so when his phone finally _ping_ s, with a text that’s not from Benedikt, Thomas, Mats, Philipp, Lukas or Bastian, but Kevin, his heart immediately skips a beat. He can’t fight the fond smile that creeps over his lips when he sees the picture of a happy, smiling André, wearing his new pyjamas.

“Manuel, are you coming?” his mother calls from the living room.

“Yeah, in a second!”

Quickly, he types a message and goes to join the others.

_You’re welcome. I’m glad it fits. We’re about to open the presents, I’ll call you after._

Opening presents when they’re not just three, but four – his mum, Marcel, Marcel’s girlfriend and himself –, takes longer than he expected. Not that he minds exactly, but he doesn’t want to keep Kevin waiting for too long; he might go to bed earlier than usual because of André and all. And it’d be a shame to miss out on a chance to chat only because the others are taking so long.

*

“Hey, Manuel, are you okay?” his mum asks after they’re done with the presents, and Marcel and his girlfriend have gone back to Marcel’s place. It’s been like that for a few years now, with Manuel being the only one staying their mum’s, because he lives so far away and Marcel doesn’t.

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”

His mum sends him a pointed look. “Well, last year…”

Manuel looks away and swallows. Last year, the only thing he could think of was Kevin sitting on his sofa with Caro curled up against him, his hands placed protectively on her belly, both of them looking very much in love and happy. And no, it wasn’t something that his own imagination had come up with just to be cruel to him on Christmas Eve – it was a picture that had been posted on instagram that very evening.

“That was last year.”

“Right.”

He means to reach for his phone then, but then his mum continues, “So how’s Kevin?”

“How should I know?” he replies, but it’s more a reflex than anything else. It’s not like he’s deliberately trying to keep anything from her.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” his mum counters, sending him another pointed look. “Last year, you were just sitting around moping with the look of a miserable puppy, barely even touching your food. And I know you. I know that you wouldn’t have the heart to ignore him after he was outed the way he was. Or after all the other things that have happened to him lately.”

“Not gonna deny that.”

“So how is he?”

“He doesn’t tell me _that_ much, exactly, but I do think that he’s being honest with me when I ask him. I don’t know, I guess it’s hard on him, but he’s coping. Handling it all quite well, better than I expected, anyway.”

“And his son?”

“As far as I can tell, he’s a good dad. He does put the boy before everything else.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

He sends her a long look, wondering if he should ask her when her opinion on their break-up and her negative attitude towards Kevin changed, but decides against it. Best to just leave it and appreciate that she seems to have changed her mind. She and Kevin have always gotten along very well – maybe not just as well as Manuel and Pia, but certainly close enough. And if his mum’s not angry with Kevin anymore for what he did, that’s probably for the best. For all of them.

“I got him a present, actually,” he says instead. “The kid.”

“You _did_?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s.” His mum pauses for a second to collect herself. “Sorry, I’m just very surprised. I had no idea you’d come that far already. Really, that was very thoughtful of you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not the kid’s fault that his parents broke up,” Manuel replies with a shrug.

A weird silence follows, the kind of silence where someone wants to say something but doesn’t know how to phrase it, or if they even should.

“Is it yours?” his mum finally asks, actually managing to do it without sounding accusing.

“Not as much as the fact that Kevin’s not into girls.”

“So you’re not…?”

“There’s nothing going on between us, no.”

Right then, just when his mum’s about to respond, his phone interrupts them with the ringtone that’s reserved for Kevin alone – some anti BVB song from Manuel’s days as an Ultra.

“You _still_ haven’t changed that old ringtone?” his mum bursts out with a laugh.

“As long as he refuses to change, I won’t either,” he winks, and accepts the call. “Hey, Kevin!”

“Hey, sorry, I know you meant to call, but I have to head to bed soon, so–”

“No, that’s alright. I meant to call you earlier, but Mum, you know…” Manuel responds, and heads for the kitchen to talk in peace.

He doesn’t miss the smug look his mum sends him, though.


	30. Texts X

_13:46_

**from kevin:** congrats on being voted in the world xi again!

 

_14:02_

**to kevin:** thank you!

 

_14:05_

**from kevin:** wanna hang out one last time before the rückrunde starts?

**to kevin:** let me just check my schedule real quick

 

_14:07_

**to kevin:** yeah i can come over when we’re back from training camp


	31. Custody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Rifmelody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rifmelody) for recommending the song “I Really Want You” by James Blunt – both the melody and the lyrics really fit the atmosphere of the story.
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Minor changes/rewrites.

It’s only been a day since they came back from Doha when Manuel drives over to Stuttgart to visit Kevin and André. It’s early afternoon and his hair is still a little damp from the shower after training, but since it’ll take him about two hours to get there, possibly even longer if the traffic’s bad, it’s better to get going early. It’s not like he has something better to do for the rest of the day anyway.

The drive goes well, though, and a couple of hours later, he drives up outside Kevin’s flat. There’s another car standing in the driveway already, one that Manuel doesn’t recognise and which certainly doesn’t belong to Kevin. Weird. Kevin knows that he was planning to come over – they may not have agreed on a specific date, but there aren’t that many to choose from with the league starting again the upcoming weekend. Then again, maybe the other person also stopped by unannounced.

Still, that means that he has to turn back and park in the car park further down the road – the one he used when he and Kevin were still together, trying to keep their relationship a secret from Carolin. It feels like a lifetime has passed since the last time he had to park there.

At least that time is over now, even though it took their relationship with it, Manuel thinks when he rings the doorbell. The automatic lock buzzes shortly after. Kevin must’ve figured it’s him then, since he didn’t bother to ask.

He jogs up the stairs and knocks on the door. He waits a moment, but no one opens, and when he holds his breath to listen, he can hear the faint sound of voices coming from the other side. Maybe this isn’t a good time after all. Maybe he should just leave, send Kevin a text explaining that he’ll come by tomorrow, and drive back to Munich.

That’s when the volume of the voices increases significantly, and even though Manuel can’t make out any words, he clearly recognises the sound two people fighting. Another reason why he should just leave Kevin and the other person to it, but when he turns on his heel to leave, he hears another sound.

The sound of a child crying.

_Oh no._

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t, but for some weird reason he kind of feels responsible for the little boy, especially now that he’s heard what he’s heard, without knowing what’s going on. What if André’s currently witnessing or experiencing something he shouldn’t, something that will scar him for life, what if he’s in danger, what if _Kevin’s_ in danger, what if, what if, what if…

Before Manuel can think his actions through, he’s grabbed the door handle and ripped the _unlocked_ door open. The sight of a very upset, distressed one-year-old meets him in the hallway.

He rushes inside, the door falling shut behind him, and lifts the little boy up in his arms, holding him close. André clings to him with both hands and feet, whimpering in distress.

“What is it, André?” Manuel asks, voice soft and gentle.

He doesn’t have to wait for an answer. Loud yelling from the room next door drowns André’s whimpers, and Manuel can make out Kevin’s voice and a female one.

With André well protected in his arms, Manuel walks into the living room, and is met with Kevin and Carolin standing there, screaming at each other. They must’ve been at it for a while already, because they’ve reached a very vile level, where they’re just exchanging insults rather than discussing rationally like the two adults they actually are.

“Hey!” Manuel calls out, interrupting them both in the middle of another round of shit throwing. They both come to an abrupt halt and turn in his direction, gaping at him in shock. Manuel furrows his eyebrows and sends them both a strict look.

“I have no idea what kind of problem you two have with each other, but that you stand here and fight like cats and dogs in front of your son, who isn’t old enough to understand any of this, that just isn’t acceptable,” he barks at them, voice harsh and firm, but hopefully not loud enough to scare André.

Kevin looks away, the red colour of shame starting to spread over his cheeks, whereas Carolin looks – if possible – even angrier.

“Kevin, what is _he_ doing here?” she snarls at her ex.

Kevin tries to stutter something, but Manuel beats him to it before he can give her a decent reply.

“I’m just trying to be supportive and help out now that Kevin’s on his own.”

“Oh, really? And why would you do that?”

The sharp pitch of her voice makes André whimper again and press his face to Manuel’s chest.

“Because that’s what friends do. And two is better than one, also for André.”

Carolin frowns, then she places both hands on her hips and looks him dead in the eye. “Get out and away from my baby. I don’t want you near him.”

“Too bad,” Manuel replies coolly without shying away. “Because I’m taking him with me outside, and you two better sort out your issues in the meantime. When I come back with him, I expect it to be calm and quiet here.”

He sends them both another hard, reproachful look, ignoring Kevin’s desperate, regretful eyes.

“And yes, that goes for you too, Kevin,” Manuel adds, perhaps a little harsher than necessary, just to make absolutely clear just how disappointed he is.

Then he takes André with him and leaves the room.

*

After quickly having dressed the little boy up in his snowsuit, winter shoes, mittens and woolly hat, Manuel takes him outside to play in the small playground outside the apartment complex. Since he came straight from training, he still has his sports bag in the car, so he goes to get one of his goalkeeper gloves for André to play with. How the kid has developed such a fascination for something as simple and dull as goalkeeper gloves is beyond Manuel, but he’s not complaining. Having something to bond over feels nice, even though André isn’t his.

After a while, Manuel’s not quite sure how long, the door opens and Carolin steps out. She’s in the middle of putting her jacket on properly and adjusting her handbag. For a second, he wonders whether she’ll just walk away, but then she starts looking around, spotting him and André by the sandpit. She hesitates, then zips her jacket all the way up and starts walking, a determination in her steps which seems forced, like she has to really convince herself to come over. It can’t be easy for her to walk those metres, if the look on her face means what Manuel thinks it means.

She doesn’t offer Manuel as much as a look, just picks up her boy and presses him close, hugging him to her chest. Manuel can hear low mumbling, but not make out the words – not that he needs to, because the tense, upset sound of Carolin’s voice tells him everything he needs to know.

She hugs André tight one last time, presses a kiss to his cheek, and places him back in the sandpit, still without looking at Manuel. Then she spins around, wanting to hide the pain in her features, but Manuel doesn’t miss the hand she wipes hurriedly over her eyes and cheeks, before straightening up and walking over to her car. She looks straight ahead when she drives past them a minute later.

In a way, Manuel can sympathise with her, even though he’s on Kevin’s side in this matter. It can’t be easy to give up your child and leave like that.

He heads back inside after Carolin’s left, and gets André out of his outdoor clothing. The boy seems a lot more comfortable now that there’s peace and quiet in the flat again, giggling happily up at Manuel and pulling at his hair.

“Ow, André, you little rascal,” Manuel laughs, and tickles his stomach to make him let go. André squeals in delight.

Figuring that the boy will be fine on his own for a little while, Manuel places him on the play mat in the living room, letting him keep the goalkeeper glove, and heads into the kitchen to look for Kevin.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, bent over a large white book, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Hey,” Manuel says softly, making Kevin look up.

“Hey.”

“Did you come to an agreement?” Manuel asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to Kevin.

A nod. “She’s given me full custody,” Kevin whispers, confirming what Manuel already suspected.

“I figured as much when she came out just now. I didn’t think she’d do it, though.”

“Neither did I,” Kevin admits. “But to her, it was everything or nothing, I think. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Do you want anything to do with her?”

“Not really, but I would’ve done it for André.”

Manuel nods quietly.

“What have you got there?” he asks then, nodding towards the book.

“André’s baby album. Caro’s been working on it.”

“She didn’t want to have it?”

“No. Technically, it’s not even hers, she said. It’s André’s, she’s just been making it for him. He’s supposed to have it when he’s, I don’t know, eighteen or something.”

“I see.”

“So she wants me to finish it.”

“Because she won’t be around to.”

“Yeah.”

“Any other requests?”

“Nothing big. Only that she hopes I won’t portray her in a bad light and make her the villain of his life. She wants him to know the truth, but also her motivation for doing what she did – that she didn’t want to abandon him, but did it to give him the best chances he could get. Not that I’d portray her badly either way, but she probably wanted to make sure.”

“That sounds reasonable though, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is. I just…” Kevin cuts himself off with a shrug. “I feel bad that she needed to point it out. That she didn’t trust me on it.”

Kevin opens the book then and starts leafing slowly through the pages. The ultrasound photos, showing the fetus gradually growing bigger. The first photos of André as a newborn, plenty of him sleeping in his crib the first few days. Carolin feeding him and Kevin lying exhausted on the sofa with André sleeping peacefully on his chest. There are many photos of Kevin and André there, of Kevin taking care of him in all kinds of ways. Most of the album is empty, though.

“I’ve thought about offering her full custody, actually. It’s going to be quite stressful for André when I go back to playing weekends and have to bring him with me, so a parent with a normal schedule and a nine-to-five job would probably be a lot better for him. But when she stood there in front of me…” Kevin pauses again. “She went on and on about what I did, how betrayed she feels, how much she still hates me, how people like us shouldn’t be–”

Kevin stops then, can’t bring himself to complete the sentence. He takes a deep breath, then another one.

“And I get that, I do,” he continues. “I deserved every word of it, but I couldn’t do it. Give her the custody, I mean. I don’t want him to grow up with a mum who’ll portray his dad in a bad way just because of something as basic and natural as sexuality, and turn the kid into a homophobic arsehole who’ll never want to see me or even know about me, and gradually come to hate me. Without ever having met me, and without ever wanting to meet me. You know?”

“Yeah,” Manuel just breathes out. He doesn’t have the voice to say more, the words cut too deep.

“That’s probably why she asked me not to portray her badly. Because she knew that’s exactly what she’d do if she were in my position.”

A moment of silence passes, then Kevin turns to Manuel and their eyes meet. Kevin’s are wet now, and Manuel knows his are too, but he doesn’t bother trying to hide it. He isn’t ashamed to let it show that hearing Kevin like this is getting to him – hearing _anyone_ say something like this would probably have caused the very same reaction.

“Sorry,” Kevin whispers, abruptly looking away and ducking his head.

“No, don’t be. You shouldn’t be.”

Then Manuel reaches out and pulls Kevin into a tight hug.

For a brief moment, Kevin hesitates, his body going rigid, but when Manuel doesn’t pull away, he gives in with a heavy sigh and presses his face to Manuel’s shoulder. Manuel can hear him snuffling quietly, and he moves one hand up to caress the back of Kevin’s neck, feeling the tension in Kevin’s body ease a little at the touch.

For a long while, they just sit like that, neither of them saying anything, just enjoying the closeness, and Manuel tries to ignore how unbelievably good it feels to hold Kevin this close.

“Thanks for being here, Manu.”

Kevin’s voice is hushed, barely audible, muffled by Manuel’s shoulder, but Manuel hears it loud and clear anyway.

“Anytime, Kevin,” he whispers back.


	32. Article I

## BILD: Take Your Kids To Work Day

**Single father and VfB Stuttgart player Kevin Großkreutz had no one to babysit his son André (1).**

_Stuttgart, 18.02.18:_ It was during the 2. Bundesliga match at home against Greuther Fürth (2:1) that some of the players on the Swabian team found themselves in a rather unusual position – not because they were benched, but because they had to be babysitters simultaneously.

Kevin Großkreutz (29), who was outed as gay by his ex girlfriend last autumn, was recently given the full custody of their 13 months old son, after the mother gave up her parental right. The papers were signed a couple weeks ago, an anonymous source informs _BILD_. Babysitting has since then been a challenge for the single father, the said source claims, referring to the rather inconvenient working hours of a footballer.

“We know what kind of situation Kevin’s in, and we wish to help and support the best we can,” the club confirms in a comment after the match. “The kindergarten does a great job during the week, and Kevin’s family step up every time they can, but since they live so far away, we just have to get creative once in a while. So far, we haven’t experienced any issues with having little André with us, and the boy is so busy following the match that he almost doesn’t need to be looked after.”

Großkreutz’s teammates are also positive to the solution.

“I love it. André’s a great little kid, it’s just fun to have him with us,” Simon Terodde, who was subbed off in the 56th minute, grins.

“One would think that a one year old on the bench would cause stress and trouble, and generally just distract us from the match,” says Mitchell Langerak, second goalkeeper in the team and a friend of Großkreutz’s since their time together at BVB. “But as long as he gets to follow the match with us, sleep, or play with a goalkeeper glove, that kid is more than happy!” the Australian finishes with a laugh. He was also the one who had the pleasure of looking after Großkreutz junior during the match, since dad himself got a full ninety minutes on the pitch.

Whether the boy will continue to join the team in the future is unknown. Neither the club nor the players wanted to confirm nor deny anything.


	33. Marita

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

Kevin throws the phone in his hand a look and takes a deep breath, then another one, and then one more. Christ, he can’t remember the last time he was this nervous, especially not about something as simple as a phone call.

He hasn’t been in contact with Manuel’s mum since the Christmas before the last break-up. She’s always been very kind to him and accepting of his and Manuel’s relationship, but he can only imagine how she must feel about him now, after betraying and breaking her son’s heart like he did. He wouldn’t be very kind or forgiving either if someone were to do that to André in twenty years.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, he’s calling to ask her for a _favour_. God, she’s going to hate him even more now.

Okay, now. Might as well get it over with.

He takes another few deep breaths, then presses the call button and puts the phone to his ear. Already after the second ring, he starts wondering that maybe, maybe she won’t even pick up since she’ll be seeing that he’s the one who’s calling, and–

“Hello?”

“Er, hi. Hi, Marita. It’s, uhm, it’s Kevin.”

“Kevin! Hey!”

“Hi.”

“What a lovely surprise, it’s so nice to hear from you! How are you doing?”

“Uh, good, thanks,” he stutters, because to his great surprise, she doesn’t sound hostile or angry at all. “And you?”

“Oh, you don’t wanna hear about me. Nothing new under the sun, same old as always.” Is that a hint of a wink in her voice? “But I should’ve called you ages ago! I’ve been thinking so much about you and how you’re doing, you know, after everything. I’m so sorry for not being in touch sooner.”

“No, no, don’t worry about that. I get why you wouldn’t, I mean, why would you even, so–”

“Oh, please, don’t give me that. Just because my son thought it was a good idea to break up with you,” – Kevin has to suppress a chuckle at the tone in her voice, which sounds more amused than anything else – “it doesn’t mean that I can’t be in touch with you either. I don’t have to take his side in everything.”

“I get why you would this time, in this case, though.”

“Oh, well. I might’ve, but… Let’s not dwell too much on that. Can’t have been easy for you either. Anyway, tell me, how have you been? How is your boy doing – André, was it not?”

“André, yes. He’s fourteen months old now, just started kindergarten.”

“They sure grow fast, don’t they.”

“Yeah.” Kevin lets out a nervous laugh.

“Manuel’s told me so much about him,” – he has? – “and he seems like such a wonderful little boy. You’re doing a good job with him, I hope you know that. He’s just yours now too, isn’t he?”

“He is, yes. We signed the papers about a month ago.”

“How has that been going so far? Being alone, I mean? I’ve seen that you’ve had to bring him with you to the matches a couple of times.”

“It’s not too bad, actually. It sure isn’t ideal, but we’ve just got to make the most of it, I think. With all the help from the club and my family, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m very happy to hear that, truly. And that Stuttgart have taken such good care of you. Because they have, right? It seems like it, at least.”

“Oh yes, they’ve been great. Helpful, supportive, everything. More than I could ask for, even. I’ve been very lucky.”

“Good. I mean, it’s only fair.”

They keep going like that for more than an hour, and Kevin tells her about the football, the fans, the everyday life, some more about André, and makes sure to ask some questions in return; it has indeed been a long time since they saw each other, and he doesn’t want this to be a one-way conversation. Marita’s not very interested though, she mostly just wants to talk about André and whether Kevin’s had any problems with homophobia.

It feels good, surprisingly so, to talk to her about it. Someone who could be hating him right now but nevertheless has chosen to be on his side. He didn’t realise that he needed that until just now.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Marita sighs at one point, when they’ve somehow managed to touch on the subject ‘Manuel’. “He doesn’t say it, and for all I know, he probably doesn’t want to realise or admit it either, but he misses you so much, Kevin. Believe me, he does.”

“Yeah, I… I miss him too,” Kevin admits, sighing heavily. “But I don’t think he’ll be able to forgive me after all this.”

“Oh, please. He will. I’d say he has already, but if he hasn’t, it’s because he’s being stubborn, and that’s just downright stupid of him.”

“Not sure he sees it the same way as you do, though.”

“No? Guess I’ll have to have a little chat with him about that, then.” Again with that hint of a wink in her tone, and this time, Kevin can’t hold back the brief laugh, despite the somewhat difficult topic. Oh, how he’s missed her and her always so good mood. He wants to say something though, warn her about not pushing it, because he doesn’t want Manuel to dislike him more than he already does, but she’s his _mum_ , so it doesn’t feel right to correct her on anything concerning her own son. It’s none of his business how the two of them communicate and what they talk about.

“Speaking of Manuel, though…” he begins instead, figuring that he might as well get to the reason why he’s calling in the first place.

“Yes?”

“I, uh, kind of have a favour to ask? If you don’t mind?”

“Oh sure, of course not! What is it?”

“I, er… I need something from your fanshop.”


	34. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor additions/rewrites.

In the afternoon on Tuesday, the 27th of March, Kevin picks up André from the kindergarten right after training, and drives straight to Munich.

“Do you know what we’re gonna do, André?”

André just looks up at him from his baby seat.

“We’re gonna go see Manu, wish him a happy birthday.”

For once, there aren’t any Champions League games, Bundesliga games or international breaks on Manuel’s birthday, and Kevin assumes that the goalkeeper will be home. If not, he can always just put the gift in the mailbox or something. Admittedly, it would’ve been wiser to plan the visit on beforehand, but he also wants to surprise Manuel for once.

And a surprise isn’t much of a surprise if he doesn’t show up unnoticed.

*

With André on one arm and the birthday present in the other, he rings the doorbell with his elbow and waits in anticipation for Manuel to open. It takes the goalkeeper long enough for Kevin to almost start to consider leaving.

“Kevin, hey!” he bursts out when he finally opens the door.

“Hi.”

“And you brought André.” Manuel reaches out to pat the toddler’s cheek. “Hi, buddy!”

André beams up at the goalkeeper and tries to grab his hand.

“Yeah, couldn’t leave him at home all by himself.”

“‘Course not. Come on in!”

Manuel steps to the side and even though he wasn’t planning on getting inside, Kevin figures that it’s better to stand in the hallway than on the doorstep. Just as Manuel has closed the door behind them, however, there’s a round of loud laughter coming from elsewhere in the house. Kevin sends Manuel a puzzled look.

“Oh, sorry, I just have a few teammates over. Wasn’t planned, they sort of just dropped by right after training.”

“Yeah, figures, it being your birthday and all. No worries though, we weren’t planning on staying. We just came by to give you this.”

Without waiting for a response, Kevin hands Manuel the gift. The goalkeeper accepts it with a puzzled look of his own. “But–?”

“Happy birthday,” Kevin just says, sending him a careful smile.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but really, there’s no need to get me anything. I have everything I need already.”

“I know, but this is indeed something you’re in need of and don’t have. Should’ve gotten you one years ago, even. Go on, open it.”

Manuel lets out an awkward laugh, then he starts unwrapping the square package. Kevin can all but see the gears turning in the goalkeeper’s brain as he gets rid of the white paper with the simple royal blue ribbon, revealing a white and royal blue box inside. The Schalke logo is the first thing he recognises, then he turns it around in his big hands, spotting the image of a simple white and royal blue Schalke mug on the sides.

“Oh, that’s… That’s very nice, Kevin.” He looks up, meeting Kevin’s eyes, a genuine smile spreading across his lips and reaching his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Kevin shrugs but returns the smile, albeit a little shyly.

Manuel steps forward then and pulls him into a close hug, and is that just Kevin, or is that a faint hint of lips against his cheek? It’s over so fast that he’s left questioning whether it happened at all, and Manuel has turned his attention to André.

“Thank you, André,” he whispers in the toddler’s ear, and presses a kiss to his cheek, making André giggle and wriggle in Kevin’s arms.

“It’s to have at your place, isn’t it?”

“Yes. You know, when you’re over. You’ve always let me, so I thought it was about time you got one, too.”

“I broke yours, though.”

Kevin shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. I still have six years to make up for.”

He can still remember how taken aback he had been when he got it. A late Christmas gift shoved into his hands by a very nervous goalkeeper – about a month after they had admitted to being miserable without each other and made up –, both an apology and a peace offering for leaving Ruhr and ending their fuck buddy arrangement, and a promise not to do it again.

For some reason, Manuel suddenly looks just as nervous now, worrying his lip between his teeth and refusing to meet Kevin’s eyes.

“Five, actually,” he finally admits, voice barely audible. “Not even that. I broke it right after–”

“Five then. Four and a half. Doesn’t make much of a difference. So, just keep it here and, I don’t know, grow attached to it, and bring it with you next time you come over. Yeah?”

“Yeah. I will.”

“Good. I’ll let you get back to your friends now.”

“Oh, you can just join us, if you like. Just a few guys from the team, and you know Thomas and Robert.”

“Yeah, no, I think I’ll pass. You know, with André and all. You know how he gets around strangers.”

“Oh. Right.” If Kevin didn’t know better, he’d say there was a hint of disappointment in Manuel’s voice. “I just thought, since you’ve driven all the way here. I don’t want it to be in vain.”

“It wasn’t. I just wanted to give you the gift in person, that’s all. I wasn’t even sure if you’d be home, but asking would’ve ruined the surprise, so…”

“So you’re sure you don’t want to come in?” Manuel sends him one of those _I’m not sure I believe you and are you okay_ looks, and Kevin shudders. He doesn’t want Manuel to question him about how he’s doing _again_ , at least not now. Not on Manuel’s birthday, which should be all about _him_ , and definitely not when his teammates are present.

“Positive. And, uhm… Don’t tell them I was the one to stop by, okay?”

Manuel watches him closely for a moment. “I won’t. Have a safe drive back to Stuttgart.”

“Thanks.”

“And thank you too, for the mug. I really like it.”

“I’m glad you do. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He sends Manuel one last, brief smile and turns to leave.

Over his shoulder, André pouts up at Manuel as the birthday boy waves goodbye.


	35. Convo I

“Hey, Kevin! What’s up?”

“Hey, Manu. Uh, listen, sorry for calling you this late, but I kind of have a favour to ask? If you don’t mind?”

“Sure, shoot.”

“You know how I’ve been getting my family and friends to watch André when I play, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And, uh, I just checked the schedule, because... We’re playing 1860 next weekend, away, Sunday. And my parents were supposed to come down, but something came up, and now neither of them can after all.”

“Go on.”

“And I may have checked your schedule already, and you’re playing at home that Saturday afternoon, and... Well, I was kind of wondering, if you don’t mind, and don’t have other plans, of course, and if you feel up for it, if you’d maybe want to, you know–”

“–babysit André for you?”

“... yeah? But I know it’s a lot to ask and I understand completely if you don’t want to, don’t feel that you need an excuse, because there’s no pressure, not at all, it’s just a suggestion and I will find someone else if you can’t, there’s no need to worry about that, and you don’t owe me anything either, so–”

“Hey, Kevin, relax. Of course I want to.”

“... really?”

“Really.”

”It’s not just for a few hours, though. We’re talking from Saturday night after we arrive in Munich and until Sunday afternoon, after the match. I mean, when I don’t have any other choice, they let me bring him to the hotel and the match, and I take care of him myself, but it’s not exactly ideal for anyone involved and they prefer work being a baby-free zone.”

“That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll make it work somehow, as long as you wait until after I’m back from the match to bring him over.”

“Of course! I don’t think we arrive in Munich until your match is over anyway, so that won’t be a problem.”

“Perfect. I can call you back Friday night, and we’ll work out the details then?”

“Yeah, that’d be great. And thank you so much for doing this, Manu. Really. I know it’s much to ask of you and I’m very grateful. I owe you one.”

“Oh, don’t mention it, Kev. You know I’m just happy to help.”


	36. Keys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

“So, Manu, any plans for the rest of the weekend?”

It’s just after another win against another team in no man’s land on the table, and the whole squad is standing contented in the showers, washing off their dirt and sweat.

Manuel shrugs and tilts his head in Thomas’s direction.

“How so?”

“Well, since we don’t have training tomorrow…” Thomas raises an eyebrow.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Manuel says, reaching for his soap. “I already have something I have to take care of.” Some _one_ , he corrects mentally.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup. But save your ideas for next time, I’d be happy to join then.”

He finishes up, waves goodbye to his teammates with a “see you all on Monday”, and, glancing at his phone on his way out to his car, sees that he’s actually been significantly quicker than usual.

At home, he has just enough time to clear out of his sports bag and slip into comfy, not Bayern related sweatpants and a loose t-shirt before the doorbell rings. Perfect timing.

“Hey,” he greets Kevin, who’s standing on his doorstep with the baby bag flung over one shoulder and André in his arms, who’s holding on to the other. The boy lights up at the sight of him.

“Ma-u!” he exclaims, making his dad chuckle.

“I’ve been trying to teach him your name,” Kevin says, smiling. “He still needs some practice.”

“I’m surprised he even recognises me,” Manuel replies and pushes the door more open. “Come on in.”

Well inside, Kevin places André in Manuel’s arms and shrugs the baby bag off his shoulder. André lets out a happy little baby sound and curls his small hands into Manuel’s t-shirt.

“Congrats on the win, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

“So,” – Kevin produces a little notebook from the bag – “I’ve updated it with our latest schedule, which changes _all_ the time since he’s growing so fast, but this should be pretty accurate. Just, you know, meals, bed time, tips and tricks to make him fall asleep – not that you’ll need those, you’ve perfected that already.”

Manuel chuckles lightly and a smile tugs at the corners of Kevin’s mouth. “And you’ll find all you need in the bag, including extra sets of everything, just to be on the safe side. The only thing I wasn’t able to bring was his travel bed…”

“That’s okay,” Manuel shrugs and adjusts his hold on André a little. “Should be more than enough room for him with me.”

“Good. And if you have any questions, or something comes up, whatever it is, don’t hesitate to call me. Even if it’s five in the morning. You can reach me anytime. Except when I’m on the pitch, but just let him watch the match, and he won’t cause you any reasons to call anyway.”

Manuel chuckles again. “Already been smitten with the beautiful game, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Kevin pauses and takes a deep breath. “So. I think that was everything.”

“Well, that’s not too much, is it?” Manuel says, looking at the boy in his arms. “I’m sure we’ll manage just fine on our own, aren’t you?”

Kevin worries his lip between his teeth and keeps his gaze focused on André, seeming to deliberately avoid Manuel’s. “I still feel kind of bad for asking this of you,” he says then.

“Come on, Kev, don’t be silly. I’ve already said yes and honestly, I don’t mind at all.”

“You sure?”

“ _Yes_. You know I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

“Yeah…” Another deep breath. “Well, I better get going.”

Kevin reaches out and Manuel places André back in his arms, accepting the notebook in the process. Absentmindedly, he flicks through it as Kevin says goodbye to André, hugging him close and whispering softly in his ear. When he finally has to place the boy back in Manuel’s arms, André is a lot happier about it than his dad.

Manuel expects him to leave then, but Kevin hesitates, eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed tightly together, gaze fixed on an indefinable spot to Manuel’s side.

“Something wrong?”

“I also want to give you this,” Kevin says, reaching into his pocket and bringing out a set of keys. “It’s the spare keys to my flat. Or, they are now, now that Caro doesn’t need them anymore.”

“Kev–”

“Just in case you’re going to need something from my flat while I’m unavailable, not that I think so, because I’ve packed everything I could think of, but still. And, you know, you really saved my arse when you came by the day Caro and I were fighting, and it was a pure coincidence that the door wasn’t locked. If something were to happen again… I’d feel safer if I had a backup.”

Manuel’s mouth falls open and he just stares at Kevin, at the keys in his hand, back at Kevin, who’s refusing to meet his eyes, eyes still fixed on that same spot, scratching his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

“And you’re sure you want me to…?”

“If you don’t want to, that’s–”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Manuel hurries to cut him off. “But I’m gonna need at least two hours to get to you if something actually were to happen. Wouldn’t it be easier to have someone based in Stuttgart instead?”

Kevin shrugs. He doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that, gnawing at his lip now, brushing the back of his hand against his nose, once, twice. And then Manuel gets it. They’ve never been very good at telling each other that they trust each other – or, for that matter, that they care about each other, love each other… And admitting it here and now is probably too much too soon after everything that’s happened. Just accept the offer, don’t ask any questions, you already know what it means.

He sends Kevin an encouraging smile and takes the keys out of his hand. “But then again, if it’s an actual emergency, you wouldn’t be calling the person with the spare keys anyway.”

For a brief moment, Kevin’s smiling too, raising his gaze just a little before turning to André.

“Now you be a good boy while Manu’s looking after you, yeah?”

“Ma-u!”

Kevin chuckles. “Yeah, we definitely need to work a little on your name,” he says, more to himself than to Manuel, before looking up. “Like I said, you can call me anytime if something comes up.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll come pick him up as fast as I can after the match.”

“Don’t sweat it. Half an hour extra or so won’t make much of a difference.”

“Yeah, you say that now, but just wait until tomorrow afternoon. You’ll be relieved that I’m not too late then.”

Kevin gives André a last pat on the cheek, then he slips out the door.

“Well then, guess it’s just you and me now, right, André?” Manuel smiles down at the little boy, who giggles happily and snuggles against his shoulder.


	37. Babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blog status on the chapter: Minor rewrites.

“Look, André, that’s your dad right there.”

It’s almost 1:30pm the following day, and Manuel has just made himself comfortable with André in front of the television to watch Stuttgart’s match against 1860. For the past nineteen hours he’s had full responsibility for the very energetic little boy, and it’s been surprisingly fun, albeit surprisingly exhausting. Except for sleeping and the occasional napping they’ve spent every minute together; playing, eating, reading, playing some more, practicing some goalkeeper skills (well, what Kevin doesn’t know…), reading again, eating again, playing again… How Kevin manages all that on a daily basis, every day, every week, every month, and still has enough energy left for training, playing and the associated travelling is beyond Manuel. Becoming a father must give you an extra boost or something.

Or maybe Kevin’s just better cut out to be a parent than Manuel is.

Not that he’s really complaining, not when it’s less than twenty-four hours and the toddler in question is André. With his joy and enthusiasm, his happy baby noises and constant need for a cuddle, his still very dominant fascination for goalkeeping and adorable attempts at getting Manuel’s name right, it’s like he’s doing everything he can to make Manuel love him, as if that was something the little boy needed to worry about in the first place.

The past hour hasn’t been just as easy, though. Manuel can sense that André’s getting restless. It’s in how he can’t stop searching the room, how he can’t keep his concentration up, how he clings to his stuffed Emma instead of playing with his soft ball or one of Manuel’s goalkeeper gloves. How he’s not so smiley and joyful and happy anymore. How he’s repeating the word “Dada” a little too often. The last one makes Manuel’s heart ache in sympathy. He doesn’t want André to worry that he’s been left for good by his father as well, not when Kevin very soon will be back to get him.

Fortunately, it hasn’t turned in to a crisis yet, and now that the match’s about to start, Manuel hopes they’ll avoid it altogether.

André looks up at him now with wondering eyes, and Manuel bends down to his level, pointing at the screen. The players are currently exchanging the usual handshakes. “There, your dad. Can you see your dad?”

It doesn’t seem to have the desired effect, though. Maybe the screen is a little too distant after all, maybe it only works when the boy has Kevin present in the same room. Suppressing a sigh, Manuel lifts André up in his arms and cuddles him to his chest. Cuddles, he’s figured out, seem to work most of the time, and if he hums that one song that Kevin’s not particularly fond of, even better. André relaxes a little against him and – even though he still doesn’t seem very happy – he’s at least calm and relaxed and not on the verge of crying. Manuel presses a kiss to his temple and nuzzles his soft hair, and the tight grip on Emma’s foot loosens a little.

It does get a little better once the match starts. The second André hears the whistle and the loud cheering from the crowds, he looks up at Manuel with wide eyes, then at the screen. Eager and enthusiastic, he starts gesturing.

“Daa!”

“Yes, exactly!”

Through the whole first half, the toddler’s eyes are fixed to the screen, following the ball closely and getting overly excited each time one of the goalkeepers catches it between his goalkeeper gloves.

Manuel chuckles in amusement and pats André’s soft, blonde hair.

At halftime it’s still 0-0 after a rather even match, and André keeps calm, resting against Manuel’s chest for the fifteen minutes it takes for the match to continue. Manuel can’t help but wonder if the length of the halftime is something the little boy has programmed into his mental clock already, because precisely fifteen minutes later, he turns back to the screen, once again full of energy.

Unfortunately, the second half doesn’t exactly go Stuttgart’s way. 1860 score a quick goal just after the referee has blown the whistle, and, after a desperate fight from the guests to level the score, the home team follows up with another two between the seventieth and eightieth minute.

“Dammit,” Manuel swears as the third ball rolls past Mitchell Langerak, only to bite his tongue a second later, remembering too late that he has a minor present. He throws André a careful look, but he’s as absorbed in the match as ever, eyes fixed on the ball slipping between Mitch’s hands. Yeah, the kid probably didn’t catch that. He’s still too young to even be able to pick up on such words.

The match ends about ten minutes later with barely two minutes of additional time, and the camera swipes over the Stuttgart players, the disappointment of the defeat written clearly on their faces. And with good reason – they’ve had a great shot at being promoted ever since the winter break, but if they fail more now, they’re going to blow it. Manuel swears again, inwardly this time.

Now that the match is over, André isn’t very happy either. When he understands that there will be no more of the pitch and the ball, he looks up at Manuel with pleading eyes, back at the screen, up at Manuel again. Then he starts whimpering. Before it can turn into full crying, Manuel turns off the TV and cuddles the toddler closer.

“Don’t worry, André. Dad will be here soon, I promise.”

André whimpers again and starts wriggling in his arms. Quickly, Manuel gets up, starts walking calmly around the living room, rocking the boy in his arms, humming the Schalke song again. André whimpers louder and Manuel forces himself to keep his calm, remain stable and balanced. Children are like animals, they can sense your distress. André has enough with his own distress at the moment, he doesn’t need more.

It takes Manuel longer than usual, and André’s very close to burst into tears several times but finally, when Manuel has run out of ideas and patience and is about to give up, the kid miraculously calms down, falling silent in his arms.

And that wasn’t a moment too soon, Manuel thinks as he sits back down on the sofa and makes himself comfortable, trying to find a position that’s good for them both. With a relieved, heavy sigh, he nuzzles André’s hair and closes his eyes.

A while later, André has finally dozed off, and Manuel’s about to do the same when the doorbell suddenly rings. He jerks upright and the boy stirs in his arms. Even before he gets up from the sofa he can sense André’s distress, and hopes to God that that’s Kevin at the door. If not, he won’t only have the problem of explaining why he has a baby in his arms, he’ll have to deal with an upset André as well. After this much time alone with him, Manuel can think of more relaxing ways to spend the rest of his day.

But of course it’s Kevin, and André cries out a loud “Dada!” when he recognises him, wriggling impatiently and stretching himself out towards his dad. Manuel only manages to greet Kevin with a quick nod before he has to place André in his father’s arms, worried that he’s going to drop him if he doesn’t.

“Oh, my boy,” Kevin sighs and hugs his boy close. André whimpers and clings to him, but when Kevin starts whispering in a low, comforting voice, he seems to calm down. Figuring that it’s best to let father and son have the moment to themselves, Manuel goes to pack all of André’s things in the baby bag.

He’s just zipped the bag close when Kevin joins him in the living room. André’s resting peacefully and content in his arms, about to doze off again.

“Hey,” Manuel says, sending Kevin a tired smile. “Sorry for being so quick about it, but he’s been missing you a lot for the last few hours.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. He doesn’t like being away from me for too long,” Kevin reassures him. “He’s actually surprisingly calm. I’ve experienced much worse when I’ve come to pick him up after a match. He must really like you.”

“I like him too.”

“So how has it been?”

“Quite nice, actually. We’ve just been playing a lot and he slept, well, like a baby through the whole night. Woke up damn early though – I haven’t been up this early on a Sunday in ages.” As if on cue, Manuel needs to suppress a yawn, which of course doesn’t escape Kevin’s notice.

“I wasn’t gonna point it out, but now that you mention it, you do look tired as hell,” he grins.

“Jerk,” Manuel mutters, but it lacks the bite. “I’m not complaining, though, I really enjoyed babysitting him. I’m just not used to being responsible for someone else like this, not the way you are. Even a day takes its toll on you.”

“Told you. It can be a lot more exhausting than it looks like.”

“Yeah. I have to say, I admire you even more now for making it work twenty-four seven all on your own. I’ve imagined it to be tough, but trying it yourself gives you a completely different understanding.”

Kevin shrugs. “What can I say, I suppose it’s different when it’s your own kid.”

“You get an extra boost?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“How would you put it, then?”

Another shrug. “I don’t know. Except for the indescribable love you feel, it just does something to you to know that there’s a helpless little one out there who depends on you, and who has no one but you. Who didn’t even ask to be here, but got stuck in this mess anyway, which makes you feel that you have to make up for bringing him into it. So yes, you can probably say that it gives you a boost, it just sounds too simple to me. It’s much more complex than that.”

Manuel just nods. He doesn’t have anything to say or add to that; Kevin’s the one with experience on the matter.

“Anyway, we’ll let you rest now. We have a long drive ahead of us and better get going.”

“Sure.”

They make their way back to the hallway, where Kevin sticks his feet back into his trainers.

“I’m very sorry about the match, by the way,” Manuel says as he hands Kevin the baby bag.

“Yeah, I’d… rather not talk about that. Just wasn’t our day.”

“I’m confident that you’ll still make it.”

“Oy, careful what you say now, or you’re gonna spoil it.”

“What? You have every chance of making it comfortably.”

“So we did last season and still we managed to screw up at the very end.”

Manuel can’t help but smile at Kevin’s stubbornness. “You’re so bad at being pessimistic. I _know_ that you believe in the team and your chances of making it.”

“I did until you decided to jinx it.”

Manuel chuckles. “Fine, have it your way. Drive safely back to Stuttgart and don’t crash.”

“I’ll try not to.” Then Kevin grows serious again. “And again, thank you so much for doing this. You really saved my weekend.”

“Happy I could help you out.” Manuel reaches out, caressing André’s chubby cheek gently with the back of his fingers. “And don’t take too long before you bring him over again, or I’ll come by unannounced because I miss him so much.”

Kevin looks down at his boy, following Manuel’s movements. “I’ll keep that mind.”


	38. Texts XI

_6:04_

**from kevin:** kasnfgawo

 **from kevin:** sklta03sl

 **to kevin:** morning to u too andré!

 **from kevin:** lfmeokfela

 

_6:05_

**from kevin:** ekfnlnz38 &

 **to kevin:** yeah me too

 

_6:06_

**from kevin:**  *long row of positive emojis followed by some negative ones*

 **to kevin:** oh that doesn’t sound too good

 

_6:11_

**from kevin:** shit sorry for waking u up again

 **to kevin:** lol no worries

 **to kevin:** i can see he’s found the emojis

 

_6:12_

**from kevin:** oh god dont get me started

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been trying all evening to update the chapter with the actual emojis (since AO3 is upgrading to allow this), but so far, it hasn’t worked. I didn’t want this to be the reason you had to wait for an update though, so I’ll just add the emojis later when the database has stabilised!


	39. Quote I

## VfB Stuttgart lose their second match in a row at home against VfL Bochum. With only two match days to go, they will need two wins to secure the promotion.

— Kicker, 29.04.18.


	40. Quote II

## The dream of promotion still lives! VfB Stuttgart win away against FC Heidenheim and are three points away from making it back to the 1. Bundesliga. They now have everything in their own hands prior to the last match against Union Berlin.

— Stuttgarter Zeitung, 06.05.18.


	41. Texts XII

_17:26_

**to kevin:** i know it won’t make a difference but i’m so so sorry u didn’t make the promotion. u deserved it and i was already looking forward to playing u next season. u okay?

 

_21:09_

**to kevin:** kev?

 

_22:40_

**from kevin:** what

 

_22:41_

**to kevin:** u didn’t answer my question

**from kevin:** because its a dumb one

 

_22:48_

**to kevin:** sorry. i know, i just didn’t know how to phrase it better. want me to come over before i have to leave with the nt?

 

_22:50_

**from kevin:** no

 

_22:57_

**to kevin:** i really miss andré tho

**from kevin:** and i need to be alone so please stop texting


	42. Article II

## Stuttgarter Zeitung: Großkreutz extends his contract until 2019

_STUTTGART, 16.05.18._

The disappointment is still great among players and fans after VfB Stuttgart missed their chance of promotion for the second time in a row, this time only in the very last minutes of the season. Only three days after the painful loss, however, the club can present the first good news for the next season: Kevin Großkreutz has extended his contract by one more year.

“I came here to help the club out of the relegation, but failed. I can’t leave until I’ve made up for that and brought the club back to where it belongs,” the Dortmund-born player commented after the contract was signed, determined as always with his sixteen months old son in his arms. “Even if it takes me ten years, I won’t leave until it’s done.”

And the world champion from 2014 is known to keep his promises.

The club hopes that the extension will bring some hope to the fans in these hard months before the season starts again. “Kevin has become an invaluable player for us and we’re very happy that he wants to stay with us for the next year,” the team’s coach Hannes Wolf said after the meeting. “He’s going to continue to be important in the fight for the promotion.”

_And when will that happen?_

“You know just as well as I do that it’s impossible to tell at this point, but of course we’ll do everything in our power to make this our last season in the 2. Bundesliga.”


	43. Texts XIII

_14:26_

**to pia:** Hey Pia, Manuel here. I don’t suppose you could fix me something from your fanshop again?

 

_14:29_

**from pia:** Sure thing! Just name it and I’ll have it sent your way tomorrow.


	44. Texts XIV

_9:44_

**to manu:** have a nice trip to the training camp with the rest of the boys!

 

_9:46_

**from manu:** thanks!

**from manu:** and have a nice trip home to dortmund!

 

_9:53_

**to manu:** *pic of a displeased andré in his baby seat* we’ll see about that

**from manu:** still the cutest *heart eyes emoji*


	45. Texts XV

_15:04_

**to kevin:** I HAVE BREAKING NEWS

 

_15:39_

**to kevin:** WHATS TAKING U SO LONG

 

_16:01_

**to kevin:** ITS BEEN A HOUR WHERE R U

 

_17:42_

**to kevin:** u better not be pissed at me for some reason cos dammit this is IMPORTANT

 

_18:31_

**from kevin:** whats going on

**from kevin:** and no i’m not pissed why would i be

 

_18:32_

**to kevin:** FUCKING FINALLY where the hell have u been

**to kevin:** anyway remember i told u about marc and bernd

 

_18:33_

**from kevin:** yeah

**to kevin:** its official

**to kevin:** theyre a thing

**to kevin:** EXCLUSIVE

**from kevin:** oh DAMN???

 

_18:34_

**to kevin:** RIGHT

**from kevin:** wow

**to kevin:** i TOLD U

**from kevin:** even with ur warning i still didn’t see that coming

 

_18:35_

**from kevin:** so are u a proud big bro now or what

**to kevin:** lol u bet *sunglasses emoji*

**to kevin:** but what about u where have u been all day

 

_18:36_

**from kevin:** oh i’ve just been bathing with andré and had my hands full

 

_18:37_

**from kevin:** *pic of andré playing in the water*

**from kevin:** *pic of andré with sand all over*

**to kevin:** *heart eyes emoji*

 

_18:38_

**to kevin:** give him a big cuddle from me and tell him i miss him

**from kevin:** i already have


	46. Texts XVI

_7:18_

**to kevin:** *pic of the early morning in russia* getting ready for the first match!

 

_7:21_

**from kevin:** ever heard of a time difference!?

 

_7:22_

**to kevin:** shit sorry i totally forgot

**from kevin:** lol no worries we’re already up

 

_7:27_

**from kevin:** *pic of a very awake and happy andré in his nt jersey* and we’re counting on u!


	47. Video

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve obviously decided to pretend that this summer didn’t happen. (Also this was written a year ago, so how was I supposed to know that we would fail _this_ bad.)
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Major additions.

The whole team seems to be gathered in the recreation room of the hotel they’re staying at when Manuel enters. Some of the youngsters are playing FIFA, André and Marc are playing table tennis, Thomas and Mats are playing some kind of card game, but most of them are lying spread out on the sofas and scrolling on their phones, seeming to lack all energy to do anything else.

Then again, it’s the afternoon of the day after one hell of a quarter final, so they’re allowed to feel it. Manuel suppresses a groan as he finds a free spot on a half-occupied sofa and flops down next to Bernd; that massage he just got was definitely on the rougher side of pleasant.

“Starting to feel the age in your bones, Manu?” the younger goalkeeper asks, and raises an eyebrow at him.

Manuel gives him a hard nudge in the hip with his foot, causing Bernd to snicker. “You didn’t have to play for hundred and twenty minutes and then save an x number of penalties yesterday.”

“No, but I did have to sit on the bench and listen to a certain _Marc-André ter Stegen_ who plays for _FC Barcelona_ ,” – Bernd makes a stuck-up imitation of Marc’s voice – “complain about how low his chances are of ever getting play time, since you’re still being more of a god than a goalkeeper out there on the pitch.”

Manuel snorts, just as someone calls out a sharp “Hey!” from the other side of the room. Bernd looks up, and Manuel follows his gaze.

“I do _not_ sound like that,” Marc protests, pointing his table tennis racket at Bernd, “and for the record, I wasn’t _complaining_ , I was praising our luck that we have such a great number one goalkeeper that I didn’t have to worry about not playing myself, because I knew Manu would make it.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Bernd counters.

“Or maybe you should tell _yourself_ that, Leno, since the first thing _you_ did after the final save that saved all our arses was moan about _your_ chances of ever getting play time for the A team.”

Bernd glares at his only slightly younger goalkeeper colleague, then turns back around with a low, “Fuck you”, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Gladly,” Marc replies indifferently from where he’s back to playing with André, the monotone sound of the ball bouncing back and forth once again filling the room. “Let me know when you’re free.”

Bernd’s about to turn around again and snap at the Barcelona keeper, but Manuel nudges him with his foot again, only just managing to keep him from it.

“ _What_ ,” Bernd hisses, narrowing his eyes at Manuel.

“Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Manuel ignores the sarcasm in Bernd’s voice. “Take it out on each other in other ways than childish fighting. In bed, for example. No, I’m not joking – he did just give you an open invitation.”

“Yeah, because you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you.”

“You’re damn right I would. Save the fights for the fights that matter, not the little stuff that’ll only make you miserable. I know it’s tempting to worship the rivalry, but it’s not worth it in the long run.”

Bernd just glares at him some more, then he turns away with a scoff. “Fuck him for telling you, honestly.”

Manuel’s phone beeps.

“He didn’t tell me, Bernd,” Manuel corrects as he fishes the phone out of his pocket. “I made a qualified guess and he didn’t know how to talk himself out of it in a way that was good enough to convince me otherwise.”

Bernd shifts a little awkwardly, stealing a few glances in Manuel’s direction. “Still. I’d prefer it if you didn’t know.”

 

WHATSAPP

**Kevin**

[attachment] andré

 

“Take it out on me, then, not on him.”

“Where’s the fun in that,” Bernd mutters, more to himself than to Manuel, as Manuel pulls out his earbuds from his other pocket. Quickly, he sticks them in his ears and plugs it into his phone, then presses play.

_Ever since your amazing penalty saves last night, André hasn’t stopped talking about it._

Manuel can’t help the wide smile spreading over his face when he sees a very excited André, sitting on his play mat with his national team jersey on and his soft ball in his arms, and hears Kevin’s voice in the background.

_He says he wants to be like you when he grows up._

André throws the ball in the direction of the camera, and the camera shakes a little as Kevin picks it up and throws it back, so that André has to stretch his arms up to get it.

_Isn’t that right, André?_

André looks towards the camera at the sound of his name, a questioning look on his face.

_That you want to be like Manu when you grow up?_

_Yeeees!_

Kevin chuckles in the background and the ball comes rolling back towards the camera. Kevin picks it up, throws a slightly harder ball this time, but André still manages to catch it. Manuel’s grin widens briefly at the boy’s enthusiasm.

 _Wow, just like Manu!_ Kevin encourages him, and André glances up at the camera with the happiest look on his face.

 _Like Manu!_ the toddler repeats, and Manuel’s heart almost stops.

For a moment, there’s no sound coming from his phone, and he almost wonders if he’s lowered the volume by mistake, but then he hears Kevin’s voice again, louder this time, surprised and excited and proud all at once, mirroring Manuel’s own emotions.

 _He said it!_ Kevin bursts out. _Oh, my God, he’s never managed to say your name before! André, can you repeat that?_

_Wha?_

_Who are you going to be like when you grow up?_

_Manu!_

_Yes, like Manu! Oh, Manu, I really hope you caught this because I swear, he’s never said it correctly until just now and I can’t believe I filmed him when he did! I had almost given up on trying to teach him how to pronounce it properly!_

André beams at the camera at the sound of his dad’s happy voice, still holding the ball in a protective grip.

“Oy, Manu,” Bernd says and nudges Manuel’s leg, bringing Manuel out of it for a brief moment.

“Hmmm,” Manuel gives back without taking his eyes off his phone, where André is rolling the ball back towards the camera again, clapping his hands in anticipation as he waits for his dad to throw it back to him.

“Whatcha got there?” Bernd asks and nudges him again, and Manuel nudges right back.

“Just a video of André.”

Right in that moment André catches another ball by flinging himself to the side, and even on a small screen video, the pride and joy in the kid’s eyes can’t be mistaken. Manuel grins back at him, imagining himself sitting there and practicing goalkeeping with thelittle boy, and thus he misses Bernd’s very confused look, and how the other goalie steals a quick glance over his shoulder.


	48. Texts XVII

_23:06_

**to manu:** you boys are absolutely amazing! now break a leg and win the final!

 

_23:41_

**from manu:** thank you so much! we’ll do our best, just have to sleep for two days straight first

 

_23:42_

**from manu:** btw did u get an invite to götzeus’ wedding

**to manu:** yeah u too?

 

_23:43_

**from manu:** yeah. will u bring andré?

**to manu:** guess i have to i’ve got no one to watch him

**from manu:** not even your parents?

 

_23:44_

**to manu:** no they’re not coming back from their holiday with lenny until the day after

**from manu:** oh

**from manu:** i’ll watch him for u when we’re there


	49. Assumptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this ‘verse is partly linked with Khalehla’s, this particular shot takes place during Götzeus’ Lebenspartnerschaft/wedding from one of her stories, _Beyond the Masks We Wear_ (chapter five), which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6071056/chapters/14962150).
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Many minor additions/rewrites.

One of the good – or bad – things about a wedding, is that you risk running into plenty of people you haven’t seen in a long while. For Kevin, that includes everyone invited except Manuel, but even they haven’t seen each other since the match against 1860.

He can’t help but grin when he spots Marc-André ter Stegen and Bernd Leno arriving together, dressed in identical dark suits which really don’t help telling them apart. He’s still very much surprised by the fact that those two are now officially a couple within the inner circle of the national team, but all the happier for them. When they notice him with a dozing André in his arms and the baby bag – as always – flung over his shoulder, they turn in his direction with open and friendly smiles on their faces, Bernd gently elbowing Marc’s side.

Kevin feels a little puzzled; he’s never had that much to do with either of them, only the Bundesliga schedule have made him run into them from time to time. He hasn’t seen any of them since the outing, though, so that may have something to do with it.

“Hey, Kevin, how nice to see you here,” Marc says.

“Yeah, couldn’t exactly miss out on this, could I?” He raises his free hand to give them both a high five. “Besides, Marco knows I’d never forgive him if he hadn’t invited me.”

“Yeah, I’d never forgive him either,” Marc agrees.

“Nice seeing the two of you as well, by the way. Congrats on Russia.”

“Thanks.”

“Wasn’t much thanks to us, though,” Bernd objects, rolling his eyes, albeit with a smile on his face. Then he elbows Marc’s side again, a little harder this time.

“Uh, right. Look, we just wanted to say, you know, last year,” Marc begins, stuttering a little. “What you did. That… It takes guts to do that.”

“Respect,” Bernd adds. “We’ve been wanting to tell you, but we haven’t had the opportunity, and we wanted to do it in person.”

“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” Kevin replies with a shrug. “But thank you, I appreciate that.”

“You could’ve denied it?”

“Wasn’t an option, considering the consequences and everyone involved. Piece of advice, though: Do it on your own terms if you ever decide to do the same. Being forced out is not something I’d recommend.”

The two goalkeepers stare at him, their grins dropping in an instant, turning to each other to exchange a look. “Uh, sorry, what–?” Marc stutters.

“Wait, you _know_?” Bernd.

“ _How_?”

“I have an excellent gaydar.”

Their eyes seem to grow even wider, and Kevin grins at them, unable to keep up the appearance for long. “Hey, I’m kidding, of course,” he chuckles; the relieved looks on their faces when they realise that they aren’t being _that_ obvious are quite priceless. “I had no idea. I never would’ve guessed anything of the like if Manu hadn’t kept me updated.”

A synchronised “oh”.

“That makes so much more sense.” Bernd.

“So you’re back together?” Marc.

“Uh, what?” For a second there, Kevin’s not sure he got that right, but when Marc repeats himself, still very confident, Kevin realises that yes, he did. Oh, boy… “No, we’re not. Not at all.”

“You’re _not_?” Bernd blurts out, his tone surprised, before muttering something under his breath that Kevin doesn’t catch.

“Nope. Just friends.”

“Sorry, we thought–” The two look helplessly at each other, gesturing between themselves until Kevin holds up a hand.

“Don’t worry about it,” he reassures them, giving them a small smile. “I don’t blame you for jumping to conclusions.”

They try to smile back, but all it does is come across as awkward grimaces. 

“Hey, I should be used to it by now,” Kevin adds. “You’re not the first, even my own parents ask me from time to time.”

“It’s that bad?” Marc.

“It’s that bad,” Kevin confirms with a chuckle, and the two goalkeepers seem to loosen up a little, joining in.

The noise makes André stir in Kevin’s arms, stretching a bit and rubbing his eyes with a small hand, not awake enough to take in that there are strangers present. “Oh, someone’s going to be very hungry very soon, that’s for sure,” Kevin says with his eyes directed at his son, gently caressing his chubby cheek. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

*

The ceremony itself is for witnesses only, but friends and family of Marco and Mario have been invited to a small, modest celebration at an exclusive restaurant. Kevin greets his two former teammates with big hugs when they finally arrive as a married couple, and they hug him back just as hard, they too mentioning how strong and brave he is for coming out, before greeting André with wide smiles and high-pitched voices.

André just stares at them with round, curious eyes – a bit puzzled maybe, but at least he doesn’t seem freaked out.

Kevin shares a table with Benedikt, Mats and André – as in Schürrle – at dinner, thankful that they all have the summer in Brazil in common so that the conversation flows easily enough. Even though, as he can’t help but point out, André is the only one who’s not playing for a shitty team, earning him a high-five from the person in question and an amused head shake from the other two.

Dinner’s coming to an end when Mats and Benedikt excuse themselves to go talk to some of the others. Adult-André stays as Kevin produces a blanket for baby-André from the bag, along with a few of his toys, and sets up a temporary little playground for him in a free space between the tables; far enough to give the boy some space to himself, close enough to be able to keep an eye on him.

Adult-André sends Kevin a soft smile as he sits back down at the table.

“He seems like a good kid.”

“Thanks. Most of the time he is.”

“Have to admit that I admire you and the job you do. Can’t be easy doing everything on your own, on top of everything that’s happened this season.”

Kevin shrugs. “I manage. The club’s been a great support, as has my family.”

“Even though they live so far away?”

“I know it’s not exactly ideal, but they come down as often as they can. And the matches in and around NRW are easy.”

“Must still be pretty lonely, though. All alone in the south, in a situation like this.”

Another shrug. “Manu’s been over a few times, despite the distance. He’s helping out with the kid, even. That helps too.”

“Really?” The surprise is clearly audible in André’s voice. “I mean, he mentioned you had been in touch, but that much...”

“Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are, but yeah.”

“Wow.” André leans back in his chair and stares blankly in front of himself for a moment. “That explains so much,” he adds, more to himself than to Kevin.

“Anyway, congrats on the win in Russia! Tell me, how was it?”

“It wasn’t exactly Brazil, just to have made that clear,” André begins. “But each tournament does have its own charm, its own magic, so it was amazing, of course it was. How can it be anything else, when we win like that.”

André stares up at the ceiling, a wide grin spreading over his whole face. Kevin listens with excitement as the forward shares both bigger and smaller moments, and though it makes him miss the time with the national team, he’s still happy he didn’t have to experience Russia. Not with the way his life has changed the past year.

“Oh man, Kev, you should’ve been there…” André finishes after a while, at a loss of words of how to describe it.

“I’m actually glad I wasn’t,” Kevin admits.

André pauses for a moment. “Because of the gay laws?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah… Yeah, that I get.”

“Besides, I would’ve had to leave the kid behind for weeks, and since I’m all he’s got now, that would’ve been far from ideal. I feel bad enough about the weekends as it is – more than a month away from him would’ve broken my heart.”

“You really put him before anything else, don’t you?”

Kevin smiles wistfully to himself, rolling his bottle of alcohol-free beer in his hand. “How can I not?”

Thankfully, André doesn’t respond verbally to the rhetorical question, just nods to himself and pats Kevin’s shoulder, and they fall into a comfortable silence for a moment. Kevin steals a glance over at his boy, dressed in his nicest clothes for the occasion, complete with a spotted bow tie around his neck which Kevin found among his and Lenny’s old clothes. The toddler is currently busy matching geometric figures to the right holes in their box, frowning at the triangle that doesn’t want to fit in the square hole.

“By the way,” André says then, reaching for his own drink. “How did you end up naming your kid André? I’ve been curious since forever now, but no one I’ve asked seems to know.”

“Don’t think I’ve told anyone, to be honest,” Kevin admits. “Not even Caro.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. We were actually expecting a girl, had found a name and everything, so we were very surprised when it turned out to be a boy. The nurses weren’t, though, apparently that does happen once in a while. Anyway, we had to be pretty spontaneous that night, and I just mentioned André. Said it was a nice name and I liked it a lot, and Caro didn’t really object. Poor girl. She was exhausted enough as it was, she was probably just happy she didn’t have to come up with a name herself.”

“So you were just being spontaneous?”

“… Not just.” Kevin takes a deep breath. “The last time I was as happy as the night he was born, was the night we won the world cup. But as much as I value Mario as a friend and teammate, I couldn’t give my boy the name of a Judas who had left BVB, so then it became yours instead.”

For a long, long moment, André just stares at him, probably trying to search for signs that he’s joking. But no, Kevin just sends him a careful but genuine smile.

“You named your kid after me.”

“Yes.”

“We had many other players on the pitch that night.”

“But only one had the assist to the goal,” Kevin reminds him. “And it did help that you transferred to BVB the season he was born.”

“I don’t know what to say,” André says.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”

“Thank you, though, I... I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

Suddenly, the moment is interrupted by an overly excited Manuel, who has spotted their table and comes rushing over to finally say hi to baby-André. André’s up and stretching his little body the second he senses that Manuel is near, the geometric figures completely forgotten. He squeals in delight when Manuel bends down and picks him up, hugging him close, pressing kisses to his face.

Kevin can’t help but shake his head at them. As if they didn’t like each other enough already, the babysitting brought them even closer together, so being apart for a good three months since seems to have been hard for them both.

“Hey, André,” Manuel says, his voice rather muffled by the hug, while simultaneously waving at Kevin and adult-André.

“Do you mean me or the kid?” adult-André chuckles. Kevin joins in and only then does Manuel realise the confusion.

“Sorry, I meant you,” he says, coming closer and holding out his hand for a high-five. Baby-André tugs impatiently at Manuel’s tie, eager to have the goalkeeper’s full attention back to himself.

“Hey, Kevin,” Manuel manages with a brief wave as baby-André starts to tug harder. “I’d greet you properly, but–”

“It’s fine,” Kevin chuckles. “You already have your hands full.”

Manuel sends him a bright smile, then he turns his attention completely to the nagging toddler, sitting down cross-legged on the blanket to play with him. André’s beaming and refusing to let go of the tie.

Kevin shakes his head again, and reaches for his bottle.

André nudges his side. “It’s nice to see that you’re back together again,” he whispers, and Kevin nearly chokes on his drink.

“Uh, we’re– we’re not,” he stutters between the coughs.

“You’re not? But–? Your kid seems so comfortable around him!”

“Like I said, he’s been of great help and the kid adores him. But we’re just friends.”

André studies him, his eyebrows furrowed.

“But you have a chance at getting back together, right?”

Kevin shakes his head slowly. “No. I ruined it for good this time. I’m lucky that he even wants to be in touch with me.”

André’s about to protest when Manuel gets to his feet, baby-André still in his arms. “Hey, Kev, do you have the baby bag here somewhere?”

“Sure,” Kevin replies, reaching for the bag behind his chair and handing it to Manuel.

“Thanks. Come on, André, let’s go get you sorted out,” he says against André’s ear, making the little boy giggle and wriggle away from the ticklish feeling.

Adult-André sends Kevin a look when the two have disappeared in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You know, if this is how you two usually behave around him, André’s going to think you’re both his parents.”

Kevin sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I know.”

“Isn’t that a little... unfortunate?”

“Yes. But he’s still so little, and I really do need all the help I can get. And I trust Manu.” Kevin cuts himself off with an emotionless laugh. “Will you look at that, though. For the first time in the history of our relationship, we really trust each other. We respect each other, listen to each other, don’t start fights over the tiniest details. I thought we had sorted out our problems earlier, but now I realise that we hadn’t. We had no idea what we were doing. And now we do, and we aren’t even together. Maybe that’s what’s best for us, after everything. To be friends only.”

“Do you really think that?”

“It’s healthier, that’s for sure. I mean, there’s so much about him that I only now have come to realise that I appreciate. Like we’re finally getting to know each other for real. And to be honest, I’d much rather have that than a relationship that just keeps tearing us apart. We’ve been stuck on a self-destructive train from the very beginning, and it feels good to finally be off it.”

“But you still love him?”

Kevin pauses. “I’m just happy I get to have him in my life.”

André leaves it at that and they move on to other topics, but Kevin can’t help but ponder on his questions. And not just his, but also Marc and Bernd’s, his parents’…

Why on earth does everyone keep assuming that he and Manuel are back together?


	50. I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be fairly obvious what the recommended song for this chapter is.
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Minor additions/rewrites.

A little later in the evening, someone has pulled down a large white screen in the front of the room and set up a projector. The lights are dimmed down to minimum intensity, so that the large space is lit mostly by the table candles. André whimpers up at his dad and Kevin hurries over to lift him up in his arms, cuddling him to his chest.

Then the music and the pictures start. All the guests worked together to find both official and private photos of Marco and Mario, and put them together in a slideshow with music to fit it. Pictures from their careers, with their respective clubs, with the national team, from their life together.

_Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you._

From where he’s seated rather far in the back, Kevin can see Marco scoot closer to Mario and put his arms around him. Mario says something and Marco chuckles in his ear. Kevin can’t help but smile; he’s so very happy for them. They’ve been through so much together and they deserve to finally have their happy ending.

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin..._

The slideshow comes to a few moments from the training camp before the world cup in Brazil. Although Marco was injured at the end of it and couldn’t join the team, there are plenty of pictures of the two of them together before then. Dozing off next to each other on the bus, stolen moments at training and during the team building exercises. Playing and fooling around in their spare time, by the pool, in the recreation room, in the gym.

_...if I can’t help falling in love with you._

Kevin chuckles at a particularly ridiculous, sickeningly adorable picture, only to freeze a second later as the picture changes. There, in the background of another cute moment, he can spot himself and a certain other player engaged in a conversation. To the neutral observer it’s nothing out of the ordinary, just the number one and number two on a football team probably discussing something football related, or sharing a laugh over a silly joke, but Kevin knows that it’s so much more than that.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be._

He can still remember very clearly how Manuel, right in that exact moment, had congratulated him on being called-up and said that he looked forward to a month together in Brazil. He knows, because he can recognise the room they’re in, the clothes they’re wearing, and Götzeus being silly a few sofas further away. ‘Jogi has yet to make the final selection,’ Kevin had objected. ‘It’s not even certain that I’ll join.’ ‘I know you will,’ was all Manuel had whispered back, sending him a secret smile meant only for him.

_Take my hand. Take my whole life too._

And despite the happy, loving atmosphere, Kevin feels a sting in his heart at the memory. It could’ve been the two of them now, attending the wedding together as a couple, being open and free and very much officially together for once, both safe and welcome in this crowd.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

Kevin swallows and all by themselves, his eyes fall on Manuel, seated across from him a little further in the front. He too is smiling, chuckling, shaking his head fondly at the moments from Marco and Mario’s life.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be._

Handsome as always in his dark suit, white shirt and navy blue details, his dirty-blonde hair styled to stay in place, with the hint of a stubble along his jaw and a smile that always lights up his whole face. Kevin can’t look at him like this, but neither can he look away, drawn to the goalkeeper in the way he’s been ever since they first met.

_Take my hand. Take my whole life too._

And goddamn it, this is definitely not helping, because if there’s one person out there he would trust, if there’s one person out there he would allow to be André’s second parent, it’s Manuel. It’s always been, it always will be. No one else.

If only Manuel wanted to.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

His trance is broken abruptly by a small hand pulling at his short hair. Oh, there’s a little rascal who feels he’s not getting enough attention. Kevin smiles at the boy in his arms and removes André’s hand from his hair. André’s very happy to have his attention though, beaming at him with his big, sparkling child eyes, and Kevin presses his mouth to the side of his neck and blows. André wriggles in his grip and squeals in delight.

But even though he’s not aware, André does have a point – he _should_ have his dad’s undivided attention. And he has, most of the time, but there’s still that one per cent of Kevin’s brain capacity that’s been focused on Manuel ever since the break-up. On their non-existent but desired chance of getting back together. On not doing or saying the wrong things in Manuel’s presence. On the butterflies fluttering in his stomach every time they see each other. On the tingle Manuel’s touch leaves on his skin.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

He can’t go on like this any longer, no matter what he feels for the goalkeeper. It’s been more than two years since their relationship ended; it’s about time he came to terms with the fact that things will never go back to the way they were. Because if he doesn’t, sooner rather than later, it will break him and drag their attempt at a friendship down with it.

And for fuck’s sake – where did actually his confidence go? Was it flushed down the toilet along with his secret? No. _Fuck_ no. He’s the first active, openly gay player in German professional football, he’s made it through what has been one hell of a season, he’s got a little boy who depends on him, who looks up to him, who shows him nothing but love with every part of his little body – his small hands, his clingy arms, his bright eyes, his giggling mouth, his happy baby sounds.

Pull yourself together, Kevin. Quit moping about and feel sorry for yourself – man up, be the father you want your son to have, and _own_ every aspect of your identity. Let them whistle, let them call you slurs, let them ignore you at fan events, let them judge you, let them come at you with their stupid posters and offending banners, and channel all that pain and anger into energy and strength on the pitch.

Don’t forget, you’ve still got a job to do: Get Stuttgart back to where they belong. And then, maybe, one day, when André’s old enough, you’ll have a story to tell him, and he’ll have a reason to be proud of his dad.

*

_Take my hand. Take my whole life too._

Manuel can’t help but smile when he sees Marco press a kiss to his husband’s cheek as they watch the slideshow on the wall. Mario turns to Marco and gives him a kiss on the cheek in return, following it up with a proper kiss on the mouth.

All around Manuel, there are people getting a little closer to their loved ones. Thomas puts his arm around Lisa, who in turn rests her head on his shoulder, Jogi reaches for his wife’s hand, and Marc and Bernd share a look that’s meant only for them.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

Manuel swallows and tries to ignore the feeling of eyes piercing into the back of his neck. What he can’t ignore, however, no matter how much he tries, is the sting in his heart. He could be standing here too with some cute girl, and a little one with the girl’s hair and eyes, and his own nose and mouth. But he isn’t, because no matter how much he likes girls, some cocky, overconfident bastard from Dortmund once provoked him at a party, triggering the well-suppressed bisexuality in him, and he’s been in love ever since, because said bastard turned out to be not so cocky and overconfident after all. And fuck, he can’t even say he regrets it.

_Like a river flows surely to the sea. Darling, so it goes. Some things are meant to be._

Only they aren’t. No matter how much they once thought so.

_Take my hand. Take my whole life too._

Manuel swallows again, sighing to himself as he takes in the others. How happy and content they are, how they all have their eyes fixed on the slideshow, how they exchange caresses with their loved ones like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And none of them are aware of exactly how lucky they are to be able to do just that in this moment.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

Before he manages to fight the urge, Manuel has turned around to catch a glimpse of the eyes watching him – only to find that he isn’t being watched, not by anyone. He means to turn back around then, but all by themselves, his eyes fall on Kevin and he’s unable to look away. He’s got his hands full with André, tickling and poking him, trying to pull every kind of happy sound out of him, and the little boy’s beaming at his father. They can’t be heard over the music, but Manuel knows André’s sounds well enough by now to hear them anyway.

Fuck, he thinks again and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to force the image away. It’s pointless, though, and he knows it.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you._

He might as well just admit it to himself already – he’s as helplessly in love with Kevin as he’s always been. He’s been angry, upset, hurt and devastated, but never stopped loving the chaotic, emotional and reckless, but also goodhearted and well-meaning Dortmunder. No matter what’s happened between them, there’s always been that little voice somewhere, hidden in the back of his mind, that’s made sure he hasn’t forgotten just how much Kevin means to him.

And if he hasn’t by now, Manuel doubts he ever will.

But seeing him there, like that, with his son in his arms, looking so happy, Manuel knows that it can’t be. Kevin’s made it perfectly clear that André is his one and only priority and always will be. No one will ever matter as much, not even himself, and certainly not a partner. After everything Kevin’s sacrificed, Manuel doesn’t blame him. He wouldprobably have done the same if it had been him in Kevin’s shoes.

When he opens his eyes again, Kevin’s still busy with André, so Manuel turns back to the slideshow and puts on his professional face. This is not the time and place to get sentimental. He was the one who decided to end it, he has to live with that now. Kevin doesn’t have time for him and another roller coaster of a relationship, he’s got more than enough with raising his boy.

The fact that that would be a lot easier if they were doing it together as a couple doesn’t make a difference – they’re not, which makes it a non-existent option. Manuel takes a deep breath, straightens up, squaring his shoulders, forcing the thought back to a place in his mind where he hopefully won’t find it again.

The next time he feels eyes in the back of his neck, he doesn’t turn around, convincing himself that it’s just his imagination playing with him.


	51. Birthday pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the longest chapter yet!
> 
> Blog status on the chapter: Both minor and major additions/rewrites.

In the afternoon the following day, Manuel isn’t too certain that going to Dortmund is a very good idea. But he has missed Kevin’s birthday by several days already thanks to the world cup, the partying and Götzeus’ celebration, and he already has a present – which Kevin’s mum knows about! –, so chickening out is not really an option. More nervous than usual does he get into his car and start the short drive from Gelsenkirchen to Dortmund. He parks some blocks away, an old habit from their first year ~~as fuck buddies~~ together, and walks the rest of the way.

Kevin almost jumps in surprise when he opens the door and sees him. “Manu! Hey, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Hey. Yeah, well, uh, we didn’t exactly get much time to chat yesterday, so I thought I’d stop by? It’s mostly to give you this, though.” He hands Kevin the square package.

“Whoa, wha–”

“Happy belated birthday. And I’m sorry for being so late.”

“And here I thought you had forgotten all about that,” Kevin comments with a grin.

“No? What do you take me for, I wouldn’t–”

Kevin chuckles, holding up a hand. “Re _lax_ , I’m kidding.”

“Right,” Manuel says, shaking his head at himself. Figures he can’t blame himself, seeing as Kevin hasn’t joked much in the past year. He gestures towards the package in Kevin’s hands. “But go on now, open it.”

Quick and eager as always when it comes to presents, Kevin’s standing with a brand new BVB mug in his hands a short moment later.

“You got me a new one.” Kevin looks up, and his smile reaches his eyes.

“Figured it was about time.”

Kevin steps forward to give Manuel a quick hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Let me guess,” he continues as he studies the box, “to have at your place?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll bring it the next time we’re over.”

“You do that,” Manuel smiles, trying to peer past Kevin’s shoulder into the hallway, looking for a small, happy face. “Speaking of ‘we’, though – where’s André?” he asks when he can’t see the little boy.

“Oh, he’s over at Mum and Dad’s. They came home earlier today and they’ve missed him so much that they just decided to keep him there.”

Manuel grins. “So you’re not just taking advantage now that you finally have someone to babysit him again?”

“Maybe a little,” Kevin admits, slipping inside for a brief moment to bring the mug to safety. “But, since you brought it up, wanna go hang out somewhere and take advantage together of the fact that they love being babysitters?”

“Uh sure, why not,” Manuel stutters, trying not to show his surprise. “Got nothing better to do today anyway.”

“Great! Beer with or without alcohol?”

“Without. I’m driving.”

Kevin rushes to the kitchen, gets two bottles from the fridge, and shoves his feet into his trainers and his keys in his cargo shorts when he comes back. “Let’s go!”

*

They find themselves a small, quiet pitch close by, climbing up on the fence in the shadow of some large oaks, cool and pleasant in the hot sun. It’s not even a proper pitch, just a patch of grass in a park, just big enough to play football if you’re eleven in total, not eleven per team. Most of the time, the place is crowded with kids, but during the holidays, they’re sometimes lucky and find the place abandoned. Kevin bumps his bottle against Manuel’s and then they just sip the cold drinks in comfortable silence.

But Manuel can’t help but ponder on Kevin’s behaviour. Not that he’s complaining, but something’s just... different. Not completely different, just – damn it, he can’t put his finger on it.

“Congratulations on the world cup, by the way. I just remembered that I haven’t told you in person.”

“Thanks.” Manuel grins, once again picturing that beautiful moment as the ball went between the posts on the opposite side of the pitch. A shiver runs down his spine and the hairs on his arms rises.

“Wow,” Kevin chuckles. “I only have to say the words ‘world cup’ and you’re already gone.”

Manuel snaps out of it. “Can you blame me, though? It was just… Damn, a goal like that. My second thought was how happy I was that I wasn’t the one who had to catch that ball, because I doubt I would’ve made it.”

Kevin nods in acknowledgement. “Says something when those words are coming from _your_ mouth.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Manuel starts, looking down at his bottle, only to have Kevin elbow him hard in the side.

“ _Please_ don’t start some fake modesty bullshit, it sounds bloody ridiculous coming from you,” Kevin mutters and rolls his eyes, taking another sip of his beer.

A pang of something undefinable, a mixture of nostalgia and déjà vu suddenly punches Manuel in the chest, but it’s gone before he can make any sense of it. Damn it, he thinks as he tries to think back, but now fails to recall the initial feeling altogether. He hates when that happens. What where they even talking about? Oh, right. The world cup.

“We don’t have to talk about the cup,” he says, remembering that it must be a sore spot for Kevin now. “I get it if you don’t want to hear about it.”

Kevin shrugs. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t have felt very comfortable being a part of the squad anyway – not in Russia, not now.”

“Can’t say I blame you there,” Manuel mutters, turning the bottle in his hand, studying the label, suddenly recalling the whistles and homophobic chants from the stands in the match against Mexico. That a failed translation in some stupid magazine can still cause him trouble so many years later…

“Shit, Manu, I’m sorry. I forgot – I only read about the whistles after the match, and–”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I’ve experienced them myself and I _know_ it’s not. Don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise. It may work on Jogi, but it won’t work on me.”

Manuel looks up and meets Kevin’s eyes, and the determination in them almost knocking him off the fence – the look of someone who does know, not just asking how he’s doing out of duty.

“I’m not trying to convince you otherwise, but there’s a difference,” Manuel tries to reason.

“How is there a difference?”

“You’re out, you’re open, so you don’t have anywhere to hide. I _do_ – the South Americans have it from a source that’s not in fact a source, and I can just blame that. The fact that they’re right is irrelevant.”

Kevin eyes him sceptically. “Homophobic slurs are nasty and uncomfortable no matter how much or how little they get to you personally. Plenty of my teammates found it awful as hell to play the derby against Karlsruhe, and the chants and banners weren’t even directed at them. And I know for a fact that they’re as straight as they come.”

Manuel raises his shoulders in a tired shrug. “I guess.”

“Look, Manu,” Kevin says, and his voice is much calmer now. “I’m only trying to say that it’s okay if they get to you. Even though you’re not gay, it still affects you.”

“I didn’t say–”

“You didn’t have to.”

Manuel lowers his head with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Sometimes he hates the advantages it gives Kevin to know him this well.

“You’re still not out to your dad, are you,” Kevin continues. It’s not even articulated as a question, and Manuel groans.

“Please don’t start–”

“It’d do you good, you know. He may not react so well, but at least you’ll be done with it and won’t have to worry so much.”

Manuel resists the urge to snap back with a loud, childish ‘ _I’m not worrying!_ ’ or ‘ _That’s easy for you to say!_ ’. It’s something his old self would’ve done without second thought, but now that he knows that Kevin knows what he’s talking about, Manuel knows better than to throw a comment like that.

“Can we please not talk about that?” he pleads instead, his voice resigned. “It’s… too much right now.” _Too much after I’ve just realised how head over heals in love with you I still am._

Kevin throws him a look, but then he nods, taking a sip of his beer. Manuel does the same, and they drink in silence for a while, enjoying the cool breeze in the very hot summer afternoon.

“Oh, but imagine Putin, though,” Kevin says after a while, and now the grin is back on his face. “If he knew that half the players on the team which won the cup in his own country are gay or bisexual.”

Despite himself, Manuel snickers. “He probably wouldn’t be so happy about that.”

“He certainly wouldn’t. Oh man, now I hope Marc and Bernd or Marco and Mario had sex in the showers after a match or something. Just as a big fuck you to Putin.”

Manuel snickers again, this time not even awkwardly. “You and your dirty mind.”

“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you haven’t thought the same.”

“I haven’t. But now that you mention it, it does sound like something Marc and Bernd would do. Not so sure about Götzeus, but Steno? For sure.”

“ _Steno_? They got a name already?”

“Of course. Can’t be a power couple without a proper name, now, can you?”

“True that. And do you have any inside information on this so-called power couple in the showers?” Kevin asks as he raises an eyebrow, grinning at Manuel.

“Sorry. But then again, I didn’t stay in the locker rooms until everyone had left, so what do I know about what happened there afterwards? Now I kind of hope they did, it would be hilarious.”

“Do you think Putin would try to make it fall under the rules of gay propaganda if he found out? That he’d want the title taken away from you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to try.”

They fall into another comfortable silence, just nipping their beers as they watch people – couples, people with prams and pushchairs, people walking their dogs – pass by on a path that’s distant enough for them not to be recognised as the footballers they are. Manuel can hear Kevin snort when two girls walking their dogs meet, their dogs so excited that all four of them end up in a classic _101 Dalmatians_ tangle. Manuel presses his lips together not to start laughing himself.

“Funny how that,” – he points discreetly towards them with his bottle as he takes a quick sip – “is seen as just an awkward situation, but when it’s a man and a woman in some film, you know they’re going to end up together. It doesn’t have to be a film, even.”

“How do you know those two girls won’t end up together?”

“I don’t, I’m just saying. You know, heteronormativity and all that.”

“Fair enough, but look at that girl with the black Labrador. You can’t say that your gaydar doesn’t start beeping at her tattoos, short hair, wide t-shirt and khaki trousers.”

“That’s not my point. And why do looks and clothes have to mean anything? You also look straight as fuck in your cargos.”

“And you look gay as hell in your light blue shorts and whatever designer t-shirt you’re wearing.”

Manuel straightens up and turns towards Kevin in surprise. “Excuse me?”

Kevin just raises an eyebrow at him, cocking his head downwards in the process, and takes a swig of his beer.

There it is again. The déjà vu-nostalgia, caused by that glimpse, that tiny little detail. One that hasn't been there since they were together, Manuel suddenly realises, followed by the overwhelming feeling of how much he’s missed it, now that he’s finally been able to identify it: a frown from Kevin, an eye roll, a challenging look, some good-natured mockery, the constant bickering between the two of them. That’s what’s been bothering him for so long – Kevin acting so polite in his presence, so friendly, even in the situations he normally wouldn’t.

Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but that’s not how they work. That's not how they typically communicate with each other. That is how Kevin acts around other people, people he’s not sure he can trust, or when he’s afraid he'll make mistakes. With Manuel, he’s supposed to feel safe to act naturally, no matter how others would perceive him. And that’s exactly what he just did, for the first time in years.

“It’s nice seeing you like this,” Manuel says then, and has to concentrate to keep his smile small.

“Like what?”

“Relaxed around me. Chill, casual. No longer afraid of speaking your mind.”

“I’ve never been afraid of that.”

Manuel sends him a pointed look. “Oh, really? Then what about how nervous you’ve been around me this past year? Don’t think I haven’t noticed, I know you and how you act around me when you feel comfortable.”

Kevin just frowns. “Your point being?”

“Oh, nothing,” Manuel smiles. “Just glad to have the Kevin I know back.”

Kevin keeps looking at him with that frown, eyeing him up and down for a while, then he looks away with an eye roll and takes another swig of his beer. “Weirdo.”

Manuel doesn’t respond, just grins to himself and follows Kevin’s example. Oh yes, that move there, that just proved his point.

The girls have finally gotten out of their little tangle, blushing as they send each other awkward smiles and continues in their respective directions, pulling their dogs along with them.

“Hey, I know you blew me off when I tried to text you about it way back, but I really am sorry you didn’t make the promotion. You deserved it.”

“Yeah…” Kevin pauses for a moment. “Guess it just wasn’t meant to be this time either. But next season, dammit, I promise we’re going to make it.”

“You can’t make such promises.”

“I don’t care. We’ll make it, I know it. I feel it. And I’m still there and can make a difference, and I sure as hell will.”

“That’s why you’ve signed another contract?”

“Yup. They’re not getting rid of me before we’re back up.”

“Yeah, I saw that. Not sure you’ll still be able to play if you were to need ten years.”

Kevin snorts. “We _won’t_. We’ll be promoted this season. Hell, we’ll _win_.”

“You sure are confident.” Manuel takes another sip. “Overconfident, some might say.”

“You don’t have faith in us?”

“It’s not that I don’t have faith,” he shrugs. “But we both know that in football, you can never be sure.”

“I am this time. We’ve failed twice, but all good things come in threes. Next season will be our season.”

“You willing to bet on it?”

Kevin turns to him with the biggest, brightest grin on his face. “I’m _so_ glad you asked! Okay, if we win the league, I win. And if we aren’t promoted, which I can tell you now won’t happen, you win.”

“And if you’re promoted without winning?”

Kevin takes a second to consider. “I could turn this in my favour and say that I win, but I’m so sure that we’ll end up first that I won’t. If we end up second or third, you win.”

Manuel raises both eyebrows. “Not bad. Though I have to repeat myself, _ov-er-con-fi-dent_.”

“Yeah, you wish.”

“And what are the stakes?”

“What do you say to a good old classic?”

Manuel chokes on his beer and hides his mouth in the crook of his elbow as he coughs. “You do know what a good old classic is, right?” he asks, voice muffled.

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? Of course I know!”

Manuel fights down the still lingering urge to cough and throws Kevin a look. “Isn’t that going to be a little hard, though? Uh, no pun intended.”

“What do you mean? Hard, how?”

“Uhm… It kind of requires that we’re together?”

“What!? No! What the hell.” Kevin presses his lips together, _tsk_ ing sharply and shaking his head at Manuel. “I can’t believe you need a reminder, but a good old _Ruhrgebiet_ classic is to wear your jersey in the other’s city for a day, not who gets to top next time.”

Fuck. _Fuck_. Of _course_. Blood rushes to Manuel’s cheeks and he facepalms himself, twice for good measure, wishing for a moment that he could just sink into the ground. God, he _knew_ this was a bad idea, meeting up with Kevin and then _hanging out_ with him, one day after he’s realised that the feelings are back, full force, like they never even left. _Because they didn’t_ , his subconsciousness reminds him. And it’s just the icing on the cake, isn’t it, that Kevin’s acting like his good old self again. Fuck, he’s so screwed.

Kevin just laughs at him. “I’ve been trying to tell you, you’ve been in Bayern for far too long. You once said it wouldn’t change you and look at you now. This is not just _bad_ , it’s worse than I imagined it could get. About time you went back home soon.”

“I’m actually not going to argue with that for once,” Manuel groans and wants to die.

Kevin laughs again.

“But speaking of us, though. I talked with André, as in Schürrle, yesterday. And, you know, just so that you’re aware, he thought that we were back together. And I spoke briefly with Marc and Bernd too, because we arrived at the same time, and they thought the same. Funny thing that.”

“... Yeah,” Manuel says, his mouth suddenly dry. “Mats and Benedikt pointed out the same after they had watched me play with André and chase him around the room.”

“Any idea why they might think that?”

“Not a clue.” Manuel clears his throat, pulling himself together. “Maybe they think that we’re not able to be decent to each other unless we’re together.”

Kevin snorts. “Are you drunk? It’s not like we were very nice to each other when we actually were together, so it should be the other way around. Decency should be a sign that we’re _not_.”

Manuel tries to keep a straight face, he really does, but can’t help but burst out laughing a few seconds later. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Kevin covering up a grin by bringing the beer to his lips.

“You may be on to something there.”

“Of course I am. I know what I’m talking about.”

“Cocky bastard,” Manuel mutters to himself with a shake of his head.

Kevin just punches him in the upper arm in response. Manuel means to return the favour, but when he lets go of the fence and tries to take a swing at the stupidly grinning Borusse, he somehow manages to lose his balance and fall backwards instead, ending up on his backside on the grass below the fence.

Kevin doesn’t need to turn his head for Manuel to hear his laughter, but he does it anyway, grinning broadly as the sound thrills out of his mouth. “You really are drunk!” he bursts out, and throws his empty bottle at Manuel.

But this time Manuel’s quicker, catching it in his hand effortlessly with his excellent reflexes. “Jerk,” he mutters, and throws the bottle back at Kevin.

This time, he doesn’t miss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve finally caught up with the blog! The updates aren’t going to be as frequent anymore, but I hope we’ve come far enough for you to want to keep following the story anyway. Do know that I’m always working on this and hoping to update as soon as possible, and in the meantime, you can always find me on [tumblr](https://tyskerunge.tumblr.com)!


	52. Texts XVIII

_22:16_

**from kevin:** let me know when u get back to the south so we can hang again

 

_22:19_

**to kevin:** sure! back already?

 

_22:20_

**from kevin:** yeah, couple of hours ago. we actually started training a while back but i was given a few days to attend götzeus’ wedding

 **to kevin:** oh right. forgot u’re down in 2nd

 

_22:21_

**from kevin:** arsehole

 **to kevin:** don’t believe u anymore ;)

 **from kevin:**  🖕


	53. Texts XIX

_20:23_

**to manu:** oy next time u decide to stop by unnoticed pls try not to come when i’m in the shower

 

_20:56_

**from manu:** or else

 

_21:03_

**to manu:** imma have to take back that key

**from manu:** u wouldn’t

**to manu:** i WOULD

 

_21:05_

**from manu:** doubt it. there’s no one else around that u would trust with it so

**to manu:** don’t push it neuer

**from manu:** push push push

 

_21:06_

**to manu:** bastard

**from manu:** :*


	54. Karlsruhe

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga! Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga! Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

Kevin can’t tell whether the chants from the stadium are reaching through to the locker room, or still ringing in his ears after listening to them non-stop for forty-five minutes.

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

The coach’s mouth is moving, but Kevin can’t hear the words. It’s probably just some standard thing about not giving up, fight harder, run faster, tackle tougher. It’s a derby – there’s honour, prestige, glory in winning it, not just the three points. We owe it to the club, we owe it to the city, we owe it to the _fans_.

Like someone needs to tell Kevin that. A derby is a derby, regardless whether it’s Cologne against Gladbach, Dortmund against Schalke, Stuttgart against Karlsruhe.

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

With a heavy sigh, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his hands to his temples. A hand pats him once, twice between the shoulder blades. Another clasps his biceps, squeezing it briefly, but Kevin shrugs it off.

Comfort doesn’t interest him. He’s too angry, too riled up, too furious to appreciate it.

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

He’s not surprised this time. Last time he was, after the first weeks after the outing had gone by almost too smoothly, with the press being curious rather than judgemental, people all across the country and even abroad showing their support, and everyone from experts on TV to fan club leaders applauding his courage and bravery.

He didn’t feel brave, and still doesn’t. He didn’t choose this. He was pushed out and just did what he had to do in an impossible situation where there were no other options.

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

All this praise from journalists, politicians, celebrities, ordinary people… Somehow, it’s felt wrong and fake. Here he’s been the bad boy of the nation for years, picked on for every – essentially unharmful, albeit rather stupid – mistake he’d made, and suddenly they all turn a hundred and eighty degrees and welcome him with open arms? For God’s sake, even _Andersrum auf Schalke_ , Schalke’s gay fan club, posted the old slogan “separated in colours, united in cause” just after the press conference about a year ago. Had they been asked two days earlier, they wouldn’t have had a single positive thing to say about him – and he wouldn’t have expected them to either. They’re supposed to hate him just as much as he hates them.

Of course it’s a good thing that they and everyone else are positive, but after all these years of negative publicity and the never-ending mantra of “you don’t deserve your world cup medal”, Kevin can’t help but think that it’s rather hypocritical.

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

It may be uncomfortable, it may be painful, but there sure as hell is something dead honest and refreshing about away fans booing at him during a derby, regardless of the reason. This is a language he understands, a language he speaks fluently, a language he knows better than his own mother tongue – and a language in which he’s able to respond accordingly.

His teammates are getting to their feet around him. Kevin glances up, sees that the coach is done speaking, urging them back out on the pitch. Reluctantly he gets to his feet, already mentally preparing for the whistles, the chants, the banners.

The coach stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Kevin?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds rough, hoarse.

“If you need me to sub you off…”

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

“No,” he cuts the coach off. Being subbed off would be even worse than playing another forty-five minutes straight. He’s done this before; he can do it again.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” His voice sounds much stronger now, and he straightens up, squaring his shoulders. “I need to play this to the end. Sitting on the bench listening to them will only make things worse.”

“No one would blame you for being affected.”

_Fags don’t belong in the Bundesliga!_

“And I doubt I’m the only one who feels uncomfortable with chants like these ringing through the stadium for ninety minutes straight. At least on the pitch I’ll have the chance to prove them wrong.”

Something shifts in the coach’s eyes then and he nods, before ushering Kevin out of the locker room. Out into the catacombs, into the tunnel, and back out on the pitch, where the chants hit him like a brick wall, and his eyes are automatically drawn to the ugly banners dominating the away stand.

 

_STAY AWAY FROM OUR BALLS_

_NO TO BUNDESLIGAY_

_REAL MEN EAT PUSSY_

_HAND + BALL ≠ FOOTBALL_

**_FAGS DON’T BELONG IN THE BUNDESLIGA_ **

 

Oh, bring it on, Kevin thinks as he finds his place on the pitch, facing the away stand with fire burning through his body.

I’ll show you exactly how much a bloody fag like me belongs in this league.


	55. Texts XX

_17:14_

**to kevin:** HOLY SHIT WHAT A GOAL

 **to kevin:** this is the best damn thing i’ve seen in my LIFE

 

_18:23_

**from kevin:** payback time 😎

 **to kevin:** damn straight!!

 

_18:24_

**from kevin:** more like damn gay but thanks anyway

 **to kevin:** did u just

 **from kevin:** yep

 **to kevin:** 🤦🏼

 

_18:27_

**to kevin:** but for real tho this has to be ur best goal ever

 

_18:29_

**from kevin:** nope

 **to kevin:** nope??

 **to kevin:** how

 **to kevin:** this can’t possibly be topped by anything?

 

_18:31_

**from kevin:** of course it can

 **from kevin:** or have u forgotten that i once scored on YOU?


	56. Article III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter is finally here! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to finish it, and I really hope that there are still people following this story. It’d mean a lot to me if you let me know, either here or on tumblr! And speaking of tumblr: I recently posted a requested one shot set in this ‘verse, so if you want more material and an older André, you can find it [here](https://tyskerunge.tumblr.com/post/183046731037/steno-and-6-if-youd-like-or-neukreutz-andr%C3%A9).

## When The Day Came

##### A year has passed since the first active homosexual football player in the Bundesliga came out of the closet. The moment everyone’s been waiting for since Thomas Hitzlsperger did the same in January 2014, shortly after his career came to an end, and Marcus Wiebusch rapped _the day will come, when we all raise our glasses to the first one who does it_ a few months later. Finally, the professional football is ready. Finally, a professional footballer will be brave enough.

##### But how it actually happened turned out to be quite far from anyone’s hopes and expectations.

##### Because it was anything but voluntary.

### Photos: M. Paynter | Text: G. Schreiber

  

“I tend to think of it as being pushed out.”

Those are Kevin Großkreutz’s first words when we ask him about the twenty-four hours which changed his life forever. It’s after training in Stuttgart one early afternoon in late September, a year after the famous press conference where he confirmed the rumours spread the day before. At first glance he looks, acts and talks like he always have. Granted, he’s grown a beard and taken some new tattoos in the past few years, but otherwise he’s the same tall, skinny man with the guarded posture he’s always been. The one who prefers his club’s casual clothing to anything a designer could provide, who’d never change club for money, the local lad who somehow made it from the Yellow Wall to the pitch of Signal Iduna Park – pardon, _Westfalenstadion_.

And who just so happens to be gay.

 _Being pushed out._ The words are still echoing in the open, light, sparse room. Doesn’t that imply that he’d still be in the closet if it’d been entirely up to him?

“Yes. Most definitely. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until that crucial moment I realised it was out. Every time the topic of gay players in the closet was brought up, I thought it didn’t concern me. I was out to my parents and my closest friends, I didn’t have tons of internalised homophobia weighting me down, and I was happy playing. That was all that mattered.”

_In retrospect, do you regret it?_

“You can’t really regret something that’s outside of your own control. Of course I still wish sometimes that it wouldn’t have happened, and certainly not like this, but I did what I could in a tough and demanding situation. Confirming the rumours was the right thing to do, and I don’t regret that at all.”

_If it’d been entirely up to you, though, how would you have done it?_

“Not done it at all.”

_Ever?_

“Ever.”

_Even if that meant staying in a relationship which would’ve made neither you nor your girlfriend happy?_

“Yes. Anything else would’ve been too risky.”

 

It’s sadly a reality for several players. It’s always swept under the carpet, but it’s still a badly kept secret that there are agencies providing alibi girlfriends for gay players to help them keep up appearances.

“Players don’t talk about it either. We know it happens, but if we talk about it at all, it’s always as if it’s happening in other clubs, to other players. As if it doesn’t concern any of us. The campaigns, the banners, the rainbow laces and captain’s armbands… We see them, we register them, but they don’t make a difference. Not when there are agencies knocking on your door in the next second to make sure that your reputation is taken care of.”

And Kevin knows what he’s talking about. It was a similar situation that forced him into the relationship with his now ex-girlfriend Carolin Stuhldreier. More isn’t he willing to say about that relationship, other than the fact that they had already broken up when he told her the big secret. That she wasn’t pleased would be an understatement, but he still didn’t expect the revelation to go public the next day.

_Did anything positive come out of the outing at all?_

He takes his time now. Fiddles with the mug of coffee between his hands.

“It’s a bit of a relief not having to lie anymore. Other than that…” He grows quiet again, running a hand over his short hair, glancing almost longingly out the window, at the bright green pitch outside. “I’m not really cut out to deal with the media and being in the spotlight. I just want to play.”

 

Because despite the very public outing, few things about the former Dortmund player have actually changed. Apart from a subtly added rainbow flag to his instagram bio and having to bring his son to the matches once in a while, there is little evidence to suggest that his life was turned upside down about a year ago. He hasn’t fronted it, hasn’t wanted to take part in the debates and discussions about what this means for professional football and how this could possibly change the whole business for closeted players. While people were ecstatic to have the first player be open about his homosexuality, being the player in question was far from glamorous.

“Sure, things rarely get as bad as you fear, because your mind is a nasty bastard which knows how to come up with all the worst scenarios you can possibly imagine. But it’s not the concrete hate from the homophobes and the right-wings which brings you down – it’s the sneaky feeling that people in general look at you and perceive you differently.”

Fancy words but no change of action. Constant speculations on possible lovers. Another rush of excitement from the public that now, _now_ the closeted gay players will start coming out, now that the first one’s taken the important step.

_Does it surprise you that no one else has followed in your footsteps?_

“No.” Delivered with full eye contact, voice firm, without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s a tough business to come out in, a rough environment to deal with on a daily basis. And I’m not necessarily talking about the teammates and the locker room, but all the attention in general, being in the centre of it over such a long period of time. I was lucky enough to already be comfortable with my own sexuality, I had family and friends who had my back, and it’s still been a difficult year. I don’t want to imagine how coming out would be for a player with no support and no one to lean on.”

 

Shy, but self-assured. Loud and engaged on the pitch, laidback and quiet off it. Gentle, good-hearted and honest despite his reputation as a hothead and a bad boy. The contrasts can be great, but polarisation is nothing new to Kevin.

As a true _Dortmunder Jung_ , he made the headlines even before his first appearance in the Bundesliga by edging up the Schalke fans, followed by a feud with Schalke’s own local lad, Manuel Neuer. A feud which culminated in sharing a house in Brazil in the summer of 2014, a World Cup victory and an iconic flag celebration on the pitch of Maracanã.

A symbol of a truly united national team, with an unmatchable team spirit.

“The media has always made a bigger deal out of that feud than there really was, though. We got along just fine even before we came to Brazil. Sure, it was nice getting to know each other a bit better, but it wasn’t like we were ready to claw each other’s eyes out when we were handed the keys to that house.”

_And does that still apply, all these years later?_

“As far as I’m concerned, yes. Once you’ve fought so hard, lived so close, given blood, sweat and tears together to win such a trophy, you can’t go back to hating each other’s guts. Not that we were ever _that_ bad, but it probably wasn’t far off once or twice.”

 

Even so, it’s a feud that’s still connected to Kevin’s name, years after they both left their dear childhood clubs. And while Neuer has gone on to become the captain of the national team and a world champion for the second time, Kevin’s continued to make headlines while fighting to get back to the Bundesliga.

“Considering my history with the German press and my reputation in general, I don’t think it was ideal for me to be the first openly gay player, but you don’t get to choose that. Funnily enough, it seems to have worked a bit in my favour. People seem to think that I’ve been acting out because of the secret I’ve had to keep.”

_And what do you have to say to that?_

“It’s nice to get a tiny bit of extra support which I didn’t have before, but I don’t really see the link between the secret I’ve had to keep and my bad behaviour. I still have to take full responsibility for my own actions.”

_You do seem to have calmed down since you came out, though._

Kevin pauses, briefly.

“I have a kid to raise. Between football and him, there’s not much time nor room for anything else.”

_Not even dating?_

He looks away with a huff, a shake of his head, a hint of an eye-roll.

“Especially not dating. I was lucky to get full custody of my son, and I won’t ever take that for granted. I’m more than happy to spend all my spare time with him, and I don’t want to bring random new people into his life. We need stability and predictability, and that doesn’t leave room for dating.”

_But you’ve had offers?_

“None I’ve had reason to take seriously.”

_And how about in the past?_

He frowns at us, until we specify the question: has he ever been in a relationship with another man? The immediate response is a sound of both surprise and realisation, followed by what could almost be called a blush. He takes some time to respond, struggling with the words.

“There was someone, once. But we weren’t really good for each other. We tried – maybe not our best, but we did try –, but no matter how many chances we gave each other at sorting out our issues, we never did.”

_Does he see it the same way?_

Another long pause.

“It’s hard to tell. Our experiences of it were probably quite different, but I don’t think he’d disagree completely. We both know that our relationship started off in a far from ideal way and that we never really managed to form it into something strong and healthy. The few times we were good together, we were _really_ good, but it couldn’t make up for the too many bad times.”

_Was your choice of profession the reason it didn’t work?_

“No. I think our relationship would’ve suffered either way. We just clashed, somehow – occasionally in the best ways, but mostly in the worst. I can’t deny that the football had a certain role to play, but it’s not like we would’ve been perfect if it hadn’t been a part of our lives.”

 

We have to get moving; Kevin needs to pick up his son at the kindergarten. André, almost 21 months old, named after his father’s World Cup colleague André Schürrle. We have to ask, though – out of all the players, why Schürrle?

“The night my son was born was the happiest night of my life since the World Cup victory. But as much as I love and adore Mario as a friend and former teammate, and for scoring that one crucial goal, I couldn’t give my kid the name of someone who had once left the club in my heart. A goal is nothing without its assist, though, and since the player who had it had just signed for BVB, it was a very easy decision.”

It’s not hard to see the already strong bond between father and son. Though junior may take mostly after his mother, with his very blonde hair and very blue eyes, he’s got his father’s glimpse in them, his father’s shyness, his father’s guarded body language. And the same fascination for anything which resembles a ball, according to the kindergarten teachers. A future footballer?

“I won’t force him in one direction or another; it’ll be entirely up to him to decide. But if he wants to, I won’t stand in his way.”

 

You can’t possibly miss the way Kevin’s whole face lights up at the mention of football, though. When we ask him about this season, there’s no shyness left – this is the footballer in him talking, the one who knows no pain nor exhaustion when he’s got green grass underneath his feet and a ball in front of him. The one who’ll gladly put on goalkeeper gloves and take the spot between the goal posts if it’ll help his team. The one who once sent all of Dortmund into ecstacy with his goal against Marseilles. The one who has won two Bundesliga titles, one DFB Pokal, a golden World Cup medal and played a Champions League finale on Wembley. The one who still speaks of football with an almost child-like excitement, the local lad who wanted nothing but to play for the club in his heart.

The one who was pushed out of the closet and stumbled, but caught himself just in time and landed on strong and steady feet.

And though his heart still truly lies with his beloved Borussia, we can’t find it in us to question his commitment to Stuttgart when he says in an equally strong and steady voice, “We’ll win the second league this year. You can quote me on it as much as you’d like. I know we’ll win.”

_You’re not worried that that might be too cocky and overconfident this early into the season?_

“I’ve never been more certain of something in my whole career.” A secret, subtle smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Not even when we won with BVB in 2011.”

_And do you teammates and the club share this confidence?_

“I guess the club has to be a bit more diplomatic in their statements, but it’s no secret that our goal is to be promoted. We’ve been struggling down here for far too long, and this is a club which belongs up in the first league, no doubt about it. We’ve failed twice now, but this is our year. I know it.”

_Intuition?_

“That, and the fact that all good things come in threes.”


End file.
